One of the curved ears cupped in the direction of the noise that was the woman prattling on, but even then the battle-weary ranger kept about her business, being neither kind nor gentle with the aged wizard whose illusions and deceptions had been washed away by both the insight of those at hand and the rain water from above. Grasping one wrist, she bound it with the woman's cloth, being sure to intertwine it around and between a few fingers in addition to the wrist itself before setting it to the other; the sheer strength of the beast woman's grip could have reduced bone to splinters, but for all of the events that transpired, she took none of it out on the lady of the fallen manor. Willing the fingers of the sensationless hand, she manipulated their heavy digits, thickly padded as they were, to function in spite of the rest of the armored arm which remained most limp - what a strange sight it would be to behold, but it mattered little.

Concentration was one of her strengths, in fact, it emanated from her person like a bolstering presence. The sort that tempered weak wills and refined mighty ones to keen edges.

But she was not without lack of awareness, still tearing a strip away from another arm of the woman's robe.

[i]"Because whether or not I like it, I've stuck with this war for 25 years, and wish to see it concluded before it consumes us all."[/i] The way the other woman's voice tapered off into harsher emphasis told Sakaala she was a target of much of the elaboration, but the leonine figure kept to her business, binding the maddened mage.

The Huntress was not about to play petty games with some human about the matters of what personal sacrifice meant, but the ordeal itself brought to her mind a saying she had heard among her company back in her more mercenary days; [i]"The queen does not concern herself with the opinions of peasants."[/i] It was unfortunate that she found herself now relishing days of trading blood for coin, but at least there those foolish men respected and feared her because of what she was in and by itself. Now? Now she found herself tying up some crazed wizard with the shreds of her own clothes as if she were a trophy prize collected by barbarians.

The knots cinched into a vicious bond and the mithral breastplate heaved with a sigh; the woman was at last gagged and bound, just as unceremoniously as anything else the befell her this night. To which at this point, the keen ears listened in even closer then before;

[i]"I am not asking you to come with me, but I will need that stone. Kill me now if you wish. Let the demons come and wipe out this world. While some of you may survive, you may even kill a few, it will be of no use. Their supply is endless and their power is great. And they will continue to come as long as the breach remains open."[/i]

She had no interest in replying from where she was at this distance, let alone to the speaker in question, but uttered instead with hushed breath her frustrations in native tongue, eyes shifting up to motion that drew near. Unsurprisingly, her one keen eye fell upon the small damp figure of Regina Hills, whose curiosity had been piqued for one reason or another. The tiny, by comparison of scale solely, woman looked to her with rich brown eyes, full of legitimate curiosity.

[i]"What's going on up there? Found a survivor or something?"[/i]

The swordswoman's idle stare to the halfling before ticking to Sir Hepburnberg with the servants and back, Regina, as expected, had already set about approaching the debris, attempting to climb a few of the stones to get a better view of the rummaging that was undoubtedly continuing.

[i]"Ajax trying to dig them out?"[/i] She carried on, seeming to hesitate briefly by looking back to the ranger and the quarry who she had been crouched by.

"Yes, someone else survived," The aged yet feminine voice began, "But no, neither they nor Diagorides require assistance."

Rising from her crouch, golden fur slicked with mud and grass about the knee and shin, she placed a hand on the woman's shoulder, giving a moment's pause. Now was not the time to deal with the tired psychic's lust of revenge or infinite curiosity; she did not want another reason to dabble with the "witchling" and her doings again tonight. There had been enough conflict as it was and all she wished for now was to be afforded the chance to sleep and muse on the events of this day.

"See if Sir Hepburberg has manacles; it seems we are taking the mad one alive." She misdirected, hoping her cunning would buy her time.

[@ArenaSnow][@Belwicket][@IcePezz][@Jon Y][@vietmyke][@Zero Hex]