Emily regarded the mercenary lord coolly. She'd heard a lot about the commander of the Crimson Company, the famed 'Lord of Blades'. but she knew better than most that even the mightiest stories had a person behind them. The person standing in front of her seemed like a fighter, at least - he didn't have the build of a fat, 'lead-from the back' type, and the blood on his armor indicated that he'd been a part of the defense. Emily hoped this would help him see reason. 

After Tobias introduced her as an important visitor, she stepped forward without waiting for the noble to speak first. "Damion Blackmont, unless I'm mistaken. My name is Emily Gehrman, I kill monsters. Different monsters than the kind you have here, usually, but it's all the same principle." She paused for a moment and cast her eyes about the gathering of soldiers - advisers to their lord, probably. Recognition or something very like reverence seemed to be dawning in their eyes; one in particular, a young, lightly armored girl (somebody's squire, probably) dropped the sword she was holding and gaped open-mouthed.

Emily rolled her eyes. "Yeah, you might have heard something about me. Look, all you need to know right now is that I know what I'm talking about. You and your men are camped in what might be the [i]most[/i] dangerous place in all of Borea. There are no wolves in Farsil, but there's something much worse. " She pointed over to a nearby tattooed corpse that had minutes ago been a slavering monster. In truth, she had no idea what they were - werewolves turning back into humans was an entirely new development, and even outside that her knowledge was limited on the subject; barely anyone knew anything about the werewolves, save that they were best avoided.

Nevertheless, it wouldn't do to let this on - if this Blackmont turned out to be a fool, he might ignore her advice if confronted by the edges of her knowledge, which might lead him to do something... stupid. Emily folded her arms and stared the man in the eyes. "You're a soldier, Blackmont, but I'm a hunter. And you, and your men, are being [i]hunted.[/i] You need to close ranks, consolidate, get the wounded in the middle and get as big a fire as you can going. Most animals don't like fire. After that, you leave these woods first thing in the morning, and you never look back or ask questions about what happened here, and you [i]do not[/i] try to 'get even'." 

Emily furrowed her brow as some of the hypocrisy of that last statement occured to her. It was different, she quickly decided. Mutants were a blight, a disease infecting the world that would sweep over the whole world given half a chance. Werewolves were a feature of the landscape this deep in Farsil. The huntress tilted her head and awaited the mercenary lord's answer.