Farid, it was the Redguard's name. He was young and dexterous, with knives and punches thrown out so fast that even Daelin couldn't keep track of them. He was one of the best in the camp, a fighter of proven might and a team member that closely obeyed orders. Besides him, there were two more scouts, two others that Daelin also approved as his go-to scouts. 

“Why is that Argonian in your tent?” There it was again, Farid's cocky attitude made him just short of Daelin's favorite. “Why do we even need extras?”

“Because he,” Daelin explained. In the distance, Keegan Vasque was walking towards them. The three scouts turned one after another, examining the newcomer. Daelin managed some more words before Keegan came in earshot. “and everyone else, all offer unique capabilities.”

“Right,” Farid muttered. He was taking it a bit too far with the whole confidence thing, Daelin was pretty certain. Then again, Farid was also quick to recover. So by the time Keegan came around, the Redguard already shifted to a neutral look. 

“You must be Keegan Vasque.” Farid held his hand. “I've heard about you.”

“Sure.” Keegan returned a weak handshake. Did he really? Probably not, there's no way that sounded genuine. “And just what have you heard?”

“Where's the Nord?” Seemingly not even bother to acknowledge Keegan, Farid started on his own. “That crusty redhead, the oaf with a big blade. Not that we needed him.”

“Alright, that's enough.” Daelin cut in, he waved his hand at Farid, signaling for him to shut up. Seriously, youth nowadays and their boisterous energy. “Keegan? Have you seen him?”

“Uh, yes. He's, well, resolving a dispute.” Keegan answered, mostly the truth but also secretly hoping the worst for Dumhuvud. All a sudden, someone dashed in from their side, nearly tripping over some tent pegs. The person was a Nord, not Jorwen but another tough-looking chap that was often seen consorting with the Imperial Bard. 

“Excuse me, I have potentially urgent news.” The Nord burst in. He was still catching his breath.

“You don't look like a Jorwen.” Farid commented. The Nord, now slightly recovered from what appeared to be a wild run, held up his arms in disbelief, mouthing [i]seriously?[/i] silently.

“Seriously?” Keegan said aloud, clearly directing it at Farid than the Nord. The Redguard might possess a sharper wit than Dumhuvud, but his arrogance certainly is on par, if not exceeding.

“My name is Helmi. My friend, Felix, the Bard, has been gone for the better part of last hour.” Helmi said between gasping breathes. His sleeve was rife with dirt and grime, but Helmi did not care as he smudged it against his sweat drenched forehead. “We need to find him; I should go with you.” He sounded worried.

Farid clearly wanted to spew out some witty retort, but Daelin held up a finger before that. The scout beside him shook their head, and the third one snickered. “Felix, correct? We will search him, but it is the best for you to stay here, in the camp.”

If six people and an Argonian behind the tent wasn't enough, another Dunmer just had to budge it on the perfect time. It was Madura's this time, his pen and writing pad in hand and the ever so awkward helmet sat on his crown. Daelin, Keegan, Helmi and the rest turned again, all casting sharp glances at the interrupting journalist.

“By Azura!” Bumping into Helmi was enough to prop his head up from the pages. Maduras exclaimed. “Sorry about that, is this a bad time?”

“Yes,” Daelin said, impatiently. “Now out with it.”

“Well, I was hoping to accompany you on this excursion.” The Dunmer started, shrinking a bit when the mercenaries' eyes fell upon him.

“Hold on a moment, you are letting him go but not me?” Helmi turned to Daelin, hands on his hip. 

“Both of you are not” Daelin returned. “I understand that you are worried, Helmi. But venturing into the valley could just befall worse fate on you, for the more we have in our party, the greater chance we will alert an ambush. We will find Felix, I promise.” He laid his hand on Helmi's should like he did with Utu-ja earlier. Helmi sighed, he drooped his head in resignation before nodding and walking away.

“Jog along, Maduras, shoo.” Farid piped in, mimicking Daelin's impatient tone. 

“Actually, Ashav told me I could. Here is the proof,” The journalist pouted like a brat sticking up to his sibling, it was kind of amusing for Keegan. Maduras began fumbling with his satchel, hastily searching for the proof from Ashav. For the third time in minutes,  someone else approaches. This one was definitely Jorwen, and looked like he survived Dumhuvud without a mark. For Daelin though, he couldn't help but wonder if they could ever leave before being tied down again. Who knows, the next person coming over could be Ashav, which will mean Daelin has to explain why they were still dallying here instead of doing reconnaissance. Damn Maduras, Daelin didn't have time for this.

“Alright, Maduras. Only if you agree to stay in the middle, keep quiet and do exact I say.” Without wasting time, Daelin waved for Jorwen's attention. After that, he fetched for Utu-ja. Their group of seven is now complete with eight, eight fellows descending into the unlit, uncertain valley.

“You did put the Cat-Kicker in his place, right?” Keegan asked as they methodically hiked down the camp slopes.