[center] [i]A collab post between[/i] [@gcold], [@Sovi3t] [i]and[/i] [@Peik] [/center]

Jonimir laid on his bedroll, and was seen sleeping with his blanket over him. His tent was small but organized. Food and Food objects on one side, and his books and journals on the other. Overall however his temporary living space wasn't anything special. A small/table was seen with also a quill and some parchment paper on top of it. With jot notes of the Forsworn/Reachmen. The parchment paper mainly had Jonimir's thoughts on the enemy, mostly his thoughts on the magical prowess of the Forsworn and spells he's already identified that they use.

Sadri walked alongside Edith with a brisk pace on the duo’s way to the Redguard Mage’s tent – it was obvious from his demeanor and body language that he wanted the whole ordeal done with quickly. In his opinion, the magic charges were unnecessary –dangerous, even– but the armorer lady, Edith, wanted them to be ready, and Sadri was not the type of person to ask for something from someone and then berate them. Sure, the charges could hurt them, but it was her decision. He’d rather die with his principles rather than to live without them.

In front of the tent, Sadri came to an abrupt halt and looked back at Edith. Sure, he wanted the chainmail for himself as soon as possible, but he didn’t know what kind of impression he would leave on Edith if he were to barge in like a rabid bull, so he simply waited for the woman. ‘’Ladies first,’’ he said as he gestured with his hand for her to go in.

"Aren't you sweet?" Edith said sarcastically. Sadri was turning out anything but. It was pretty clear, from the look of him, that this whole plan surronding the charges bothered him. Oh well, she's in charge here. "Look, I will not use these things unless it is absolutely neccesary, does that settle you?" She said before ducking into Jonimir's "living room". 

The tent inside was well-organized, at least relative to most other mercenaries. She heard of this Redguard man, who used to be a scholar in destruction, keeping well-established notes of magical encounters. As to be expected, there were objectes commonly seen with magic users. But what caught Edith by surprise was the smell of fermentation, it smelled like brewing mead. Ashav never mentioned specific rules against alchohol, and she admitted to drinking herself. However, the asleep form on top of the bedroll felt like someone too intoxicated to be fighting.

"Wake up." She gently tapped Jonimir's shoulder. 

Sadri sighed quietly as Edith 'consoled' him about the usage of the charges. He had hoped that he wouldn't come off as frustrated and nervous, but in the end, he had. He didn't like it a bit, but there was no point to lingering on past mistakes. It would be better to simply fix things. [i]''Should settle that before I have to fill these charges.'' [/i]

He watched, his arm and stump crossed, as Edith tried to wake the Redguard. He felt like hired muscle - granted, he was, but not specifically by Edith. [i]''This fellow better wake up fast,''[/i] Sadri thought to himself - the sooner those charges were filled, the better.

Jonimir must be a heavy sleeper, as he still napped without signs of waking. She grabbed both shoulders of the Redguard and shook them. If she was a Forsworn, Jonimir's throat would have been long slit.

"Maybe you should dump that on him." Edith pointed to a bowl of half-finished chicken soup on Jonimir's desk.

''You're the boss,'' Sadri hummed as he felt the temperature of the chicken soup that Edith pointed at by pressing the back of his index and middle fingers against the side of the cup. It was cool, nearly cold even - Sadri figured that it'd need to be heated again to be properly edible. He lifted the bowl with his hand and walked over to Edith, bowl of soup at the ready. Sadri's eyes rolled over to the quartermaster, waiting for confirmation - a good henchman wouldn't ask, but the 'maybe' said by the woman gave off a degree of hesitation, Sadri figured.

Edith would be hesitating if there are matters to hesitate about, which right now, there are none. She was actually amazed at how much Jonimir can sleep through. The Redguard can probably doze through the Oblivion Crisis and Alduin roaring beside him, and still have unaware of a single thing. Perhaps he was cursed by Vaermina? 

"Give him a minute." Edith said and shook Jonimir again. Dumhuvud would prefer slapping, but she considered it slightly uncivilized. After a minute had passed, Jonimir showed no evidence of consciousness; her brows knit togeather in worry; what if the mage was really poisoned or cursed? "Alright, give him the dose." She nodded to Sadri.

Following Edith's order, Sadri complied monotonously and held the bowl of soup over Jonimir's face at an angle that allowed a steady stream of soup to pour down on his face, but made sure that all of it wouldn't flush out, splash on his face, and make a mess. He moved his hand to make lines with the soup, trying to hit locations on his face that were unaffected by the stream. He specifically tried to avoid the goatee - Sadri knew that it was like hell trying to wash out facial hair. Eventually, he stopped after pouring about half of the cup's contents - wasting any further would, hopefully, be unnecessary.

When the chilled liquid impacted Jonimir's skin, the man began to shift uncomfortably. When Sadri administered the dose, Jonimir was definitely less drowsy and more agitated. He stirred, half opening one eye and muttered some incoherent curses, and then in an amazing display of willpower, burying his soup drench face into the pillow. He went back to sleep.

"I have no words for what I just saw." Edith groaned. Fair enough, Jonimir wouldn't help, but maybe his well-stocked supplies would be more reasonable. Looking around inside the tent, Edith found a tiny soul gem resting on the corner of the desk. "Not like he's using that." She noted. Below that desk corner was a sack, and lifting it produced clattering noises of colliding crystals. And there it was, after untying the strings Edith saw four minor soul gems, they hummed with modest energy. "These look charged to you?" She held up the bag for Sadri to examine.

''I've seen worse,'' Sadri replied quietly when the woman voiced her amazement about the man's heavy sleep. Some fly stings in Valenwood could make you sleep forever. Tsetsus? He didn't exactly remember the name of the flies. Not that it mattered. This place was far too cold for them to live, and now wasn't exactly story time.

Edith finally gave up on trying to wake the Mage up, and started rummaging through the tent, trying to find something to fill the gems with. Usually, Sadri wouldn't approve, but they did not have much time, and after all, she was the boss. He observed quietly as the woman traced a single soul gem to a sack. He watched the woman fumble with the sack, and eventually brought it to Sadri. He grabbed the sack with one hand and stuck his stump into the sack, feeling the contents with his ethereal hand - they felt as if they were pushing the telekinetic appendage away. He pulled one out of the sack and watched it writhe in the grasp of his phantom limb.

''Yup. Charged.''

Edith looked on as Sadri's stump, for the lack of better description, interacting with the soul gem. The way this gem twitched above the Dunmer's prosthetics was a curious sight. She suppose there would be certain explanation for what he just did, but for now, he trusted Sadri for what he's worth. She stared briefly at Sadri's stump, a sense of wonder at first and then repulsive feelings of what his arm truly felt like. Still, she had a job to do. As much as she hated dishonest sourcing, as she blinked the thought away, this was neccesary. And if they choose not to use Jonimir's gems, she would simply return them. 

"Good." She said. Prior to leaving with the bag, she took a piece of Jonimir's parchment and scribbled on it with his quill. She wrote a short note apologizing for taking his items without notice, and the items' intended usage. The piece was left on the table, right beside the nearly drained container of soup. Sight of the bowl almost made her feel sorry for Jonimir, almost.