Mercakete

"He thinks we're smugglers and that we attacked the patrol in cold blood," Norbert clarified as calmly as he could muster. What the heck is she doing?! Why is she offering this guy a job?! Yeah, let's just recruit everyone who walks along the road with a sword! GREAT idea! Then they can all stab us in the backs at once!

Keep talking like that and I might. This guy was getting on Bert's nerves again, which was evident from his glare slightly intensifying and his grip on his poleaxe tightening somewhat.

"So. ... You, um...don't talk much as a guard do you? At least not in Common... How common is Common in Zaftra? Oh. Um... Probably not very... Sorry..." There wasn't a whole lot to do while waiting outside the door.

"Depending on whether or not you wanted to talk with her, I was going to lead you to her," Norbert replied, "I'll take that as a 'yes.' Follow me." And with that, he led the swordsman and Rizen right to Raquel. "This is the merchant we're following around. We're still protecting her, so play nice or we'll get rough," he warned the newcomer, standing right nearby to keep an eye on him.

"..." I'm going to regret this. "At least you're sensible. Honest to a fault, though." I'm going to regret this... "... Why don't you talk to our leader? Maybe she can clear this up." What am I doing? Norbert relaxed a bit. This guy knew he was outnumbered and maybe outmatched. Raquel was more diplomatic than he was, though, so even if it meant showing him to the pink-haired merchant, it probably wasn't going to result in too much danger for the group...maybe.

"I didn't ask you what you weren't planning to do, I asked you what you were. Answer," Norbert replied, ignoring the murder bit since that would just become a pointless argument.

"Um, alright," Tas replied, first having been told to leave, then to wait. He followed the most recent...request? Order? He couldn't tell. (The one who speaks Common has a thicker accent than Lev...) He wasn't sure what to do other than stand there waiting, though, so that's what he did. It was odd hearing Irina being referred to as "princess," though. He had to remind himself that now that was what she was. To him, it was like they were talking about two entirely different people. (When I think of a princess, I think of someone unapproachable. Someone you're lucky if you even get to see. I hope Irina doesn't wind up being so protected that I never get to talk to her. That would be terrible... Hmm Prince Tristan and I met when he wasn't being guarded, though, and now we're friends. I guess, maybe, it's the same for princesses?)

"Personally, I'm here because I owe a debt," Norbert replied, not entirely enthralled with the swordsman's discovery as his irritation rose again, "But this isn't our employer's usual trade. She's recently become an arms dealer, not a smuggler." Wait. Why am I trying to defend Raquel? "In addition, we didn't murder them, we were attacked. Whether you believe me or not, that's what happened. I'll ask you again: what do you plan to do now?" I don't like this. At least no one's let Raquel's identity slip or we'll be dealing with someone who can point our enemies in the right direction.

"Well, I don't. Maybe some of the others do -- I don't know. I was in the sky when we were engaged. When I asked why we were being attacked," at this point Norbert selected his words carefully since he knew Raquel was being hunted by some organization, "our leader and employer said there wasn't any time to talk it over and to just ready my axe. Then they attacked us." "Your group is both refusing to turn over the creature you illegally possess and you're holding on to an ancient artifact that doesn't belong to you," Norbert recalled the patrol leader saying, "Your refusal to cooperate necessitates the use of force on my part. I'll kill the demon, the rest of you take out the others." "Actually...the leader of their side was nice enough to tell us that they wanted something we had and would attack us for it. I don't think you'd believe something as unusual as that, though, even if it is what happened. Regardless, what do you plan on doing? We'll be moving out soon and you already said you didn't plan on attacking preemptively, the pegasus rider both informed and asked.

The work had gone well and Tas made it to mealtime without collapsing. When it'd been time to go to bed, the company split up, each being directed to his or her respective living areas. Tas had been put with some of the palace workers in the lower levels. When he woke up the next day, his first reaction was that he had no idea where he was nor who all were around him. The events of the previous day, however, returned to his memory and he remembered that he was in Zaftra's palace in the civillian housing section. Namid was in the aeries with the other wyverns, Isotov and Irina were taken to the section of the palace meant for the royalty and Lev -- along with all the other mercenaries -- was in the military section. He hasn't seen that eccentric healer for a while now so he assumed she was just going about her own business like the majority of Kalten's new inhabitants. Several of the workers were already up and about, some tending to their tasks, others having gone for breakfast. Tas was one who wanted breakfast, but was going to be eating with more familliar faces since those were the plans he and Irina had made the previous day. So, as he made his way up the levels, he'd occasionally ask for directions to the royal dining hall (which really, was the best way he could phrase it.) Some of the Zaftrans -- particularly those of the lower classes who worked in the palace -- either couldn't speak very good Common or they didn't understand it very well. Hence his having to ask more than once as he went. Once, when he'd asked to make sure he was going in the right direction, the man he'd asked -- a mercenary, most likely -- had questioned why he was looking for the place. After all, the courier certainly looked like a civillian, especially dressed as casually as he was. He didn't see the need to be wearing armor, even as light as his was, so he'd already asked one of the palace runners to send his gloves, forehead guard, shoulder pads and jerkin up to Namid, who was already watching after the rest of Tas' and his things. The courier had responded that he was going to meet and have breakfast with Irina since he wasn't sure if any of the others would be along with her. The mercenary gave Tas the directions and following them, the courier found himself in a place other than the dining hall. A couple guards were stationed outside the door he stood before. (Did he send me to where she's staying? Well, if she's here, then we can walk to the dining hall together.) "Excuse me, sirs, but, um... Is this where I can find Irina?" he asked the guards.

Expected/10 lol But really, Clips, she's right.

lol; awesome. I didn't even realize how well that worked until you recolored.

Whoa, that's a great picture. And it was done in charcoal -- not sure if this would make it easier or harder. Obviously it helped with effects but when I use charcoal, that usually means no erasing will go well (meaning getting it right in one go.) Superb.

"Who in Wrath's name are you?" Norbert asked Domovoi with a growling tone, turning most of his attention to the wyvern rider. Probably one of us. Judging by his accent, annother 'Skotian. "Not the one in charge, right? Thought so. Now get your ugly, filthy hide out of here -- provoking me won't solve anything, you worthless, dragon-kissing pissant. I wasn't going to attack him" immediately "I was seeing if he was one of the people who seem to have something against us." Turning his attention back to Blake, he replied to him, "I don't know who shot you, but it wasn't us if it was a light arrow. We don't have those." His glare had softened somewhat, but its intensity returned at his next sentence. "And we're not bandits. We're mercenaries hired by a marchant with bad luck." He was about to say that the swordsman didn't need his weapon out since it was safe, but he didn't quite trust any of the men involved in the conversation, himself included. Rizen was even tense and ready to ram her still-growing horn into whoever attempted to strike her or her rider first.

Norbert's experssion darkened into a glare at the notion and tensed, matching the other's readiness for combat if it came to it, though he kept his poleaxe pointed down. He'd raise it if the other came at him. "You think we're bandits or something?" he asked, his tone ont he verge of threatening -- warning the newcomer that that was not a good accusation to make, "The leader of the patrol might've had a light brand. They threatened and attacked us and we fought back. I don't know why they attacked us. Maybe they didn't like the wyverns we have with us. Maybe they're idiots who confused us for some other group, though I don't see how that would be likely." He glanced at the man's weapon before his eyes flicked back over to the lone swordsman. "Are you planning on using that?"

"Probably Robin or one of those horseback archers that attacked us," Norbert replied, his confusion leaving him suspicious instead.

"Aye, aye, though it might hurt," Gytha answered before taking a firm hold of Amon's shoulder and torso and violently forcing it back into place before letting him go and mentioning, "Ye might want t' keep somethin' cold on that shoulder for a while."

Gytha began cleaning off the round and whistling one of the shanties she'd grown up on. It was almost nostalgic, that moment. For some reason, focussing on the round she was cleaning and listening to her own whistling triggered the memory of cleaning shots at her old home with her mother before dumping the corpses they'd brought to the docks into the sea. She didn't let the memory continue very long, though and simply put away the cloth and bullet before wandering away from where Robin had been and noticing Amon's shoulder looked weird. "... Ye a'right, Amon? Yer shoulder doesn't look so good," she asked as though nothing had happened.

"Could I have that back, please?" Gytha asked as she walked over to Nadya, "Don't want t' waste me shot, after all."

"... Oh, I must've dropped it..." Norbert muttered to himself as he realized his poleaxe was neither in his hands nor strapped to Rizen's tack. So, he guided the pegasus back into the carnage as he looked for his poleaxe. He found it fairly easily but that wasn't al he saw. There was someone standing nearby, staring. As he picked up his bloody polaxe, he couldn't do much else besides mirror the man with the sword. ...This doesn't look good. If he reports this, it could be...bad... Maybe he'll just keep walking and decide no one will believe him. With that hope, he took hold of Rizen's reigns and began to lead her back to where the others were. He really didn't know how to deal with the onlooker.

Suddenly, the woman with the unnatural stomach began shouting at Gytha in a language she used to hear sometimes back at home. She ignored it and finished loading her gun. Then she saw arrows flying at her -- sloppily shot since it was a few at once -- and she easily dodged them. The archer had turned around and was beginning to storm off. "Oh no ye don't. Not after that," Gytha practically growled in a low tone before firing again, this time hitting near the middle of the back of Robin's right thigh. This was getting interesting. Now if only I had something to much on while I watch this... Norbert thought as the scene played before him.

"Eh, I'd rather leave'er, but if that's the case," Gytha began replying before whipping out her gun and shooting Callisto in the head. She'd positioned herself casually for the shot in case it came to that. Norbert just kind of stared at Gytha blankly as she began reloading her pistol. "....Well, I guess that ends the discussion," he comented.

Best: Any and all headbands/forehead protectors Ewan's string circlet thing. Worst: Aideen from FE4's string with some paper or cloth tiny square thing on her forehead. I just don't get it.

Norbert handed the antitoxen off to Zel and followed Raquel a little ways while Gytha stayed at the merchant's side. She'd already drank her vulnerary, so she was in tip-top shape again. "How about we vote?" Bert asked, "Sounds like we should just do away with her to me. There's no way we'll get away with this. If we kill her and her friends at least we'll probably get into Europa without being detained and executed as a worst-case scenario. I've done my best at keeping away from fellonies. Sure would be a shame to die for something as simple as not covering my tracks." "Aye, a vote sounds good t' me, too. Have t' say, I hate goin' against th' military, but they shot first. That's at least somethin' we could usually use t' our advantage. Not sure if leavin' 'er here and alive is such a bad idea, though. Sure she could lie an' ev'tythin', but th' truth should win out, aye? I say leave'em here and alive. Fight's over and they can't do us any more harm as they are. We kill'em now and th' law has somethin' against us since it's not self defense anymore," Gytha put in, "Don't know about all o' ye, but I don't want t' be restricted from Ursian ports once all this is done."

Hey, you fixed the shading! Great job. It looks fantastic.