Warg fur stank to the fickle nose of Lontok. Wet, and active warg smelled even worse to him, but then again a human city; especially one under siege, wasn't a field of roses. Wisps of moisture flecked at his face as they cut close to the battlements with little resistance due to their fleetness and ferocity. It wasn't all moisture, Lontok could tell as much as his forked tongue flicked up from under his red sash. No, that was Squishy blood that came flying by in the wake of the Chosen. The iron taste lingered even as they drove up alongside the wall. Lontok wasn't really sure you could call it a wall in most places. How the Achnal hadn't simply jumped on over in some places perplexed him, what with the wooden ladders and stockades more rubble than masonry. Leave it to a human to hide in a hole he'd only half built. He'd heard stories of the stout mountain folk that had whole kingdoms carved into the rocks. If that ole pale bastard was right the little swarthy Dwarves knew how to wage war, but Lontok always figured Derthag good for his word if his pipeweed wasn't too strong when you asked him something. At least the inferior defenses would assist the Chosen's mission, and no doubt ole Rosie knew as much as they cut through any bunny stupid enough to stand up to a pack of warmongering orcs on warg-back. 

Lontoks longbow creaked as he flung his forearm down and pulled with its opposite limb, stringing a stout orc arrow in one fell thrust the likes a human brute would envy. A soft whimper left in the absence of the bolt was all the air did for Lontok as a pikeman suddenly found his ribs with malicious company. Lontok scanned for another target, but instead spotted a gap in the wall. Kolonch must have spotted it too, for before he knew it the wargs toed the line of the packleader and leaped onto the rooftops. It was a dash and leap and all he could do not to loose his bow when a warg had it in mind to fly. If you weren't careful you'd loose a limb in the whole affair, but the archer was more keen to keep his tongue. Slack jaws and hard landings tended to do that to the less experienced riders of the company but scarred faces hardly mattered to lost lives when dealing with the musky beasts. Never the less Lontok kept his tongue, his bow, and his life, which was more than any orc could pray for when he dove into combat. Lontok could hardly imagine how a first time rider like Sir Beler fared as they made the jump. Actually, now that he thought about it, he hardly could guess how the human fared at [i]all[/i] thorough this hasty plot. His questions soon got answered as the human spoke up.

“Stay your hands, we are on your side!" hollered Beler in a quivering spurt of Malish tongue. 

Lontok never quite liked these lowland dialects the humans favored in the region, and Malish was one such bunnyspeak. 

Koloch called out, “Easy Tuskers, let Beler speak to his bunnies. Lontok, help him, Ygdri, Mutt, help Derthag out,”

That caused Lontok to perk up, and just as well notice the rumble below him. Seemed his warg was on edge, and not just because the crossbows trained at them(to be fair Lontok was far more interested in those than who was holding them, which his mount probably cared more for.) One of the pack must have been in distress, and a look over his shoulder told him as much as he spotted a speared warg near the back. He sucked his teeth thinking of the trouble that could cause the group. The human couldn't much tell the added peril it put them in. All they seemed concerned with was that handful of orcs that had just jumped into their city riding war wolves with nary a warning to the whole deed. Obviously, it might take more than Sir Squishy to diffuse the situation. Lontok drug a heel into the flank of his steed Smiler causing them to take one stride forward, while Lontok tugged his red sash below his chin so he could speak; his bow was unquivered but ready if things got hairy, while his other hand stayed the reins.

"We are of the [i]Nar Mat Kordh-Ishi[/i]. The...Prince...," he jerked his head in the direction of Beler, having had to use a loanword form the father-tongue of Malish for a royal title such as his. Hopefully the Malish would surmise, even if it did come from the mouth of an orc. "has sought our services in this....endeavor of yours." Another pause fought with Lontok while he dug through his mind for a polite term for the siege. You always had to be polite when it came to people pointing weapons at you, he'd learned as much as a slave to Drow in his youth. Lontok had a good grasp of this dialect, Malish, even though forming the words near the front of his mouth was strange to him. He much preferred the lofty rhythm of the High Elves but you took what you were given. They'd understand him, and if no one acted hastily they'd but down the crossbows and let the Chosen carry on. Beler seemed a bit tongue tied himself, double-taking when Lontok followed up his proclamation. Perhaps he hadn't thought Radush would have sent a diplomat along with the insertion party. All the Prince really could do is flare his nostrils in a bemused huff tightened his lips as he waited for a response. 

Lontok stifled a snicker at his highness, instead his snake tongue flicked around a tusk before calling out(in Malish) in a louder tone "Mind your distance, our mounts are agitated."

 He turned toward Koloch and dropped his octave and root langue to speak with him. Koloch knew Vendish(A royal language that many other human tongues bore from), a tongue that Lontok took a liking to for its descriptiveness over many other 'improper' human tongues, and so the archer spoke in its dynamic structure. 

"The Prince has told them to stand down for we are allies. I have told them we are of the Company and are employed to the Prince....the squishies have been told to mind the wargs for they are angry."