[@PaulHaynek][@AzureKnight][@Crowvette]

[color=ed145b][b]Skarsneek of the Red Hills[/b][/color]

[color=ed145b]"Hrng, we're still on plan since their head honcho is here."[/color] Skarsneek looked at the bigger picture since this was what they wanted as the commander Na'kratz was intent on seeing them dead personally which allow the fleet to sail closer and Varjan response to be slower.

Still, that's just buying time. They'll need to take him down eventually.

[color=ed145b]"We'll pull a little back, then when he's in the centre of this building." [/color]He flicked his finger across his neck before thumbing upwards. [color=ed145b]"I can try hiding inside the ceilings, but it only work once."[/color]

[color=ed145b][i]Rains at least helping them in that favor.[/i][/color] He idly thought as he looked towards Io. [color=ed145b]"Think you can make an illusion of me? Just a simple one that you can maintain."[/color]

[color=ed145b]"Otherwise, I got a good old trick ready for him."[/color] Skarsneek smiled with mischief, his eyes already spying on the multiple things littered in this place that can pass for a goblin short horns and figure.

All he needs is one good lighting and a sneaky hiding spot, then even in the briefest of moment. It'll serve as another opening.

All of that however was thrown right out of the window as a sharp shout interrupted his thoughts before he felt multiple heavy footsteps.

He barely got a word of warning before their quarry burst through the paper thin walls grabbed Io and went right into the ground with her.

Skarsneek snapped his quarterstaff into two but Shizuka was promptly hurled toward him, forcing the latter to bowl backward and serve as an impromptu cushion. Much to his displeasure.

[color=ed145b]“Shi-!”[/color] He rolled Shizuka to one side and raced towards Na’kratz, keeping his footsteps and breath at his quietest before leaping upwards, both weapons raised above his head and bringing it downwards in a blur.

--- 

[color=f7941d][b]Gringor of the Ironhide Tribe[/b][/color]

Marching his way to the port, his eyes spied the weather and it'll be night by the time he arrives.

Quickening his pace, Gringor hoped to reach there early but someone appeared in the way. 

A weird but not out-of-place scene. The man also didn’t looked like he belonged to a Varjan and he was rushing, so he ignored the former until he was called out.

[color=f7941d]“Hmm?”[/color] Gringor looked at the other person with a raised brow before switching to the cart. [color=f7941d]“Busy, need to go bash some heads in.”[/color]

Moments after stepping past the man, an idea formed before he looked back at him. [color=f7941d]“But can help, if you help me bash some Varjan ‘eads in.”[/color]

If it was accepted, Gringor took his axe, prized weapon of generations of High Orcs. Each inherited it after a trial by combat, and jammed the bottom end part under the wheel of the cart.

He then found a good enough rock, placed it under and with a might heave, pulled his axe downwards. A trick he learned from his elders as they discovered the most effective way to pull a cart wheel out of sticky mud.