Hobbled, stumbled and limped; Maduras and two scouts arrived in camp. They were received by a Nord teenager named Dough-Boy; the messenger around their encampment and Ashav's personal errand boy. Dough-Boy asked them why they have returned so early, and why they only returned with three. The boy was worried, but Maduras told him about his foolish move and sent the lad back to his boss. As they continued looking for a healer, Maduras and the scouts came by Tsleeixth coughing his guts out.

“What's his problem? Is there a bloodlung pandemic spreading around?” The Dunmer looked to his escorts.

“Not that I know of.” The one supporting Maduras' left side shrugged.

“Likely just him.” The right side man added. “And here he comes.”

“I think I can manage from here on.” Maduras said. He felt better, no, more used to his injured leg now. He told one of the scouts to greet Tsleeixth, partially because Tsleeixth really looked like he needed help, but also because Maduras wanted to put someone else there in case the said Argonian starts to hack up blood.
[hr]
Dough-Boy was sure glad to be busy now instead of later. His boss had the common sense of tasking him with pre-assualt duty, rather than mid-assault, or Kyne forbid, post-assault cleanups. Dough-Boy was faint of heart, he could puke just at the sight of a nosebleed. That would be rather problematic, seeing how he would be cleaning up both the blood and his own vomit afterward.

Thankfully, not much bleeding is happening around camp, and it must have been exactly why he was sent to collect parcels. Ashav, who had earlier received the letter from Keegan, realized the Altmer won't be the only person sending them out. Dough's boss didn't want planning to be interrupted, and Dough-Boy loitering around anxiously counted as interruption. 

When the mercenaries made their final inspections on equipment, Dough-Boy hustled from tent to tent, collecting everything outbound in a large sack over his shoulders. He walked by Tennant beating up an improvised punching bag. Dough-Boy avoided the Imperial man, he was always scared to being substituted as a meatier target. Ducking from Dumhuvud and his posse of two fellow brutes, Dough came by Sevine helping Roze setting up. He carefully trudged up to the ladies, asking if they have any parcels to send and then turning back the way he came from. On his journey back, he realized he missed several tents, some of them being Lucex, Jonimir and Sagax. Lucex was like Dough in age, but unlike Dough-Boy's unmistakable boyish goatees, Lucex was ambiguously feminine and not too shabby on the eyes. Dough remembered trying to be more than friendly with Lucex, and later realizing he was a man. Since Dough was not interested in other males, as far he knew, interactions between him and Lucex had been awkward ever since. So fair enough, he skipped Lucex and went for Jonimir. He found nothing more than a sleeping man, smelling like, chicken soup? There were rumors of the Redguard mage secretly brewing alcohol, but could he get drunk on chicken soup? Pondering led him to Sagax, and Dough played with his bead bracelet until Tsleeixth exited.

“Pardon me,” Dough-Boy approached Sagax. There were writing materials, so it looked like he ought to be adding more items to his bag. “Ashav was asking me to collect mail, and do you wish send any?”
[hr]
Having been embarrassed by Jorwen and Sevine, Dumhuvud felt the need to vent on someone more, vulnerable. To his pleasure, the talk of Jonimir asleep like the dead was just the perfect opportunity. Jonimir's face and facial hair was already smeared with soup. But it didn't take long for Dumhuvud to find two bottles of mead. He smirked, Ashav would surely want him to address the issue of liqueur in their camp, and the Cat-Kicker was more than happy to oblige, by making a beer-soup mixture on Jonimir's ugly features.

“Sorry pal,” Dumhuvud mocked, he was feeling anything but sorry when he poured a bottle of mead on Jonimir. “But you know the what happens when you bring mead to battle, or sleeping on the job.”

The Cat-Kicker felt better all a sudden, and Jonimir will wake up feeling worse, perhaps soggy.
[hr]
When the moondial reached four in the morning, two groups were ready and assembled. Based on the scouts' recommendation, which was that the flanking routes were too narrow for twelve, the flanking group was halved to six. Half, and not all of them willing, were reassigned to the main group, bringing Dumhuvud's fighters to roughly thirty-five. Sadri, Jonimir, Lucex, Tennant and Relmyna remained under Edith's command.

Save for Ashav, the scouts and non-combat personnel such as Dough-Boy and Maduras, the rest embarked down the valley. Both groups marched together at first, and they split close to the creek. Edith and her subordinates took to a side path marked earlier by Daelin, while Dumhuvud ordered the battering ram across the river ford. Originally, four mercenaries were set to push the ram, but with the added weight of ladders attached to the ram's side, and resistance from uneven terrain, six people were now helping it forward. 

The horizon was visible under a dark orange hue, Ashav assured them to be an advantage. But the creeping shadow-like shapes, partially illuminated, was inspiring the opposite in many.
[hr]
By the time Edith arrived on the creek bank, she was sufficiently away from Dumhuvud so they could not see the other group. However, they were still close enough to hear noises once in a while, and it was mostly the Cat-Kicker berating his “troops” for their “sluggishness”. Edith sighed, that man is going to give his position away with that.

As she hid behind weeds that were on a creek shore about waist height over the water, Edith found this part of the creek to be fast running, about knee deep and had plenty of sedge growing throughout. This part is ideal for crossing, the running water and thick sedge growth would make them hard to hear and see. 

Edith leaned down and dipped her hand in the creek, she felt cold streaming biting her fingers. Slowly, she eased one foot down after another, and the small splash of water quickly seeped into her boots and lower trouser. She took long but slow strides, and her sword and shield at the ready. There were nothing in the water, or in the distant bank, but as she brushed aside several water plants,  Edith spotted a pair of archers in the distance, running towards Dumhuvud's direction. 

“Shh.” She whispered to the others. “See them over there?” Waving the group over, she directed them at the archers. “Keep your heads down, keep moving, do not do anything stupid.”
[hr]
Further down the creek, Dumhuvud was barking at the six people pushing the ram. As soon as it hit the creek bed, the wheels had been having a poor time moving forward. About ten of them already crossed over and saw nothing in front. Most of these mercenaries ahead, including Orakh, bore shields as the vanguard of their assault. However, Dumhuvud was insistent for most of them to stay with the ram, so that they could protect it and push it faster. This meant the group had to stay in the creek, it was only ankle-deep but there were nevertheless lots of cursing regarding water-logged boots and standing around with no cover.

“Haul your dumb asses back here!” The Cat-Kicker shouted at Orakh and those who went ahead. “Make yourselves useful, is that too much for your brainless heads?”

“We're clearing the roads ahead!” Orakh countered. He also addressed the people around him. “Don't listen to him, stay on your guard.” The Orcs order fell to some deaf ears but was also heeded by others, some went back to Dumhuvud while some stayed with Orakh.

“Chief!” Sadann, the Redguard spearman besides Orakh called out. “Movements, in the grasses, to the left!”

“And right!” Someone else added.

All a sudden, arrows, spells and even rocks rained down on them from all sides. Between the torches they held and the sheer size of their group, it was very confusing for the mercenaries. In addition, some of these arrows were burning. One of them struck the man between Orakh and Sadann, the projectile nailed him in the neck and he went down with a bloody gurgle. 

“Shields up! Hurry!” Orakh shouted. His own buckler leveled with another, and quick thinking immediately saw the benefit of halting an arrow intended for Sadann.

In the creek, Dumhuvud and the rest, about thirty mercenaries clustered around the ford, were also taking in missiles. However, most of the projectiles were aimed at the ram, and they were also the flaming ones. It looked like the Forsworns were attempting to burn the siege weapon, or trying to disable it by setting it ablaze. Dumhuvud was angry, but it seemed like his anger was directed at his own men rather than the enemy.

“Move this piece of shit forward.” He grabbed onto someone pushing the ram, and threw him aside. Dumhuvud landed on the ram and began pushing himself. “Quit slouching around, damn it!”

The man who were thrown aside by Dumhuvud fell on creek bed, as he got on his feet, a fire spell flew right into his chest and ignited several parts of his outfit. He dropped back in to the creek water, but as desperately as he screamed and rolled, the magical flame could not be extinguished by water. By the time Dumhuvud managed to inch the ram forward, the man was already burned to a crisp. He was not the only casualty, as someone else towards the back of the group caught an arrow in the belly.

Fortunately though, the man took an otherwise critical hit for the ram. Therefore, with Dumhuvud and additional mercenaries pushing it forward, the ram cleared of the creek and landed on the opposing shore. It was also by this time, the arrows and spells thinned and was gone as fast as they came. The shadowy movements Sadann saw ran back towards the redoubt. At least three mercenaries had already fallen and they did not even catch a good glance at a single enemy.

“What in the gods' names were you thinking?” Dumhuvud, now sweaty and dirt soaked on the trail, delivered a powerful punch to Orakh's cheek. “You could of gotten us all killed.”

“Me?” Orakh countered. He held his ground and stood face-to-face with Dumhuvud. “You were the one standing in the creek, getting everyone killed.”

The situation felt tense, Dumhuvud and Orakh came close to beating on each other. But Sadann budged in and directed everyone's attention to the sky, where a bright magelight ascended from the valley. It was some sort of signal. “Uh, look!” Sadann said with every bit of urgency he could muster. “They know we're here now. We really need to go, fast.”