"....... Oh."
Leaning rather casually over the borrowed halberd in hand, listening to how the roaring fire and settling debris drowned out the stymied Lycians' chatter, Maynette surveyed with raised eyebrows the flaming shambles of the house she'd directed Nikang and Smitty toward only a short while ago. She seemed a bit... surprised. "Shoddy house. Should have known. Seems there's a pattern here," the warrior mused, casting an obvious glance at the equally shoddy wall to her right, "Not quite the desired outcome. Perhaps the best, though."
Giving a light shrug as she stood upright again, May about-faced away from the new, fiery blockade, returning Nikang's halberd and shaking the dust from her bolero as she said, "Good work, all. We advance south and regroup. Quickly." Her voice had grown noticeably low again as she motioned to her comrades to draw nearer, throwing a backwards nod towards Nikang and Smitty's handiwork. "Noisy fight, noisier end. Unnecessary attention shall follow. Tarrying may mean being surrounded. Which is dumb. Besides..."
By now, Maynette was looming ominously over the downed form of the unconscious Smiths. She most certainly had forgotten neither the Lycian soldier's presence nor her planned use for him.
"We need to talk. Much to do and discuss. You, Smitty. And especially this one."
As the warrior knelt down, drawing an axe, she pointed with her free left arm to the overturned, wagon in the street between the ruined, blazing wreck of a house on the right and the... ruined wreck of a house to the left... what? She had not even noticed its state until now. Another trash heap. Is all of Khaltet in decay? May wondered with a slight grimace, having come to an odd pause when she had intended to speak. Strange, strange. Worthless as a stronghold. Then what is Khaltet worth?
"... First, someone, check that house," said the Sacaen woman after another moment, having shifted her finger from the wagon to the southern, dilapidated building after reconsideration. "Can we reach the street? If so, good. If not, clear that wagon. I will help shortly." Returning to her initial task, May swiftly began removing any belts or straps that she could find on Smiths' person, using them to fashion bindings for the man's hands, arms, and ankles. Ideally, she intended to have the man march once she slapped him awake, her first prisoner of war in months since that damned non-aggression pact.
She next set to work stripping Smiths of his top and the rest of his gear, but faint motion to the left in her peripheral vision stopped her before she could finish. Clearly feeling the loss of her tomahawk now, May whirled, expecting to find an errant and apparently patiently hidden archer just seconds from feathering her or her party members.
Instead, her eyes softened as they registered the form of a pegasus, looking slightly disheveled, within the collapsed building.
"....... Oh."
Sheepish realization washed over Maynette in that moment. Fess was the one detail that the warrior had in fact lost track of in the recent turmoil. Not that she would admit so openly, though. At any rate, May saw the pegasus but did not yet see the rider. She was not sure what to make of that yet. Perhaps even more curious was that the pegasus had clearly gone over the wall to get here. Why?
With Smiths bound, gagged, blindfolded, and leashed now, though, she could at least move with the party and investigate. Trying to keep noise to a minimum again—for Fess' sake and her own, the Sacaen was unwilling to test whether or not those still-very-much-alive archers could mark targets by sound—she hauled Smiths' limp form over to the building's smashed wall, holding the Lycian soldier down beneath a boot as she whispered into the breach, "Fess. Are you in there?"
Leaning rather casually over the borrowed halberd in hand, listening to how the roaring fire and settling debris drowned out the stymied Lycians' chatter, Maynette surveyed with raised eyebrows the flaming shambles of the house she'd directed Nikang and Smitty toward only a short while ago. She seemed a bit... surprised. "Shoddy house. Should have known. Seems there's a pattern here," the warrior mused, casting an obvious glance at the equally shoddy wall to her right, "Not quite the desired outcome. Perhaps the best, though."
Giving a light shrug as she stood upright again, May about-faced away from the new, fiery blockade, returning Nikang's halberd and shaking the dust from her bolero as she said, "Good work, all. We advance south and regroup. Quickly." Her voice had grown noticeably low again as she motioned to her comrades to draw nearer, throwing a backwards nod towards Nikang and Smitty's handiwork. "Noisy fight, noisier end. Unnecessary attention shall follow. Tarrying may mean being surrounded. Which is dumb. Besides..."
By now, Maynette was looming ominously over the downed form of the unconscious Smiths. She most certainly had forgotten neither the Lycian soldier's presence nor her planned use for him.
"We need to talk. Much to do and discuss. You, Smitty. And especially this one."
As the warrior knelt down, drawing an axe, she pointed with her free left arm to the overturned, wagon in the street between the ruined, blazing wreck of a house on the right and the... ruined wreck of a house to the left... what? She had not even noticed its state until now. Another trash heap. Is all of Khaltet in decay? May wondered with a slight grimace, having come to an odd pause when she had intended to speak. Strange, strange. Worthless as a stronghold. Then what is Khaltet worth?
"... First, someone, check that house," said the Sacaen woman after another moment, having shifted her finger from the wagon to the southern, dilapidated building after reconsideration. "Can we reach the street? If so, good. If not, clear that wagon. I will help shortly." Returning to her initial task, May swiftly began removing any belts or straps that she could find on Smiths' person, using them to fashion bindings for the man's hands, arms, and ankles. Ideally, she intended to have the man march once she slapped him awake, her first prisoner of war in months since that damned non-aggression pact.
She next set to work stripping Smiths of his top and the rest of his gear, but faint motion to the left in her peripheral vision stopped her before she could finish. Clearly feeling the loss of her tomahawk now, May whirled, expecting to find an errant and apparently patiently hidden archer just seconds from feathering her or her party members.
Instead, her eyes softened as they registered the form of a pegasus, looking slightly disheveled, within the collapsed building.
"....... Oh."
Sheepish realization washed over Maynette in that moment. Fess was the one detail that the warrior had in fact lost track of in the recent turmoil. Not that she would admit so openly, though. At any rate, May saw the pegasus but did not yet see the rider. She was not sure what to make of that yet. Perhaps even more curious was that the pegasus had clearly gone over the wall to get here. Why?
With Smiths bound, gagged, blindfolded, and leashed now, though, she could at least move with the party and investigate. Trying to keep noise to a minimum again—for Fess' sake and her own, the Sacaen was unwilling to test whether or not those still-very-much-alive archers could mark targets by sound—she hauled Smiths' limp form over to the building's smashed wall, holding the Lycian soldier down beneath a boot as she whispered into the breach, "Fess. Are you in there?"