Gaela stood among the group of strangers, listening to the insults slung back and forth. It was like this when strangers forced together had to learn the balance of the group. Who would emerge a leader, who would follow and who would buck against the majority. Her blue-grey eyes shifted from the mage and her summoned creature, the fiery conjuration staring with black pits at the gathered group. While she knew mages that specialized in it, she never had interest in the Conjuration school and the brushes with Daedric influences. She worshipped the Divines and it made her uncomfortable to draw on darker powers. 

But to each their own, as long as the mage did not get carried away, she reminded herself as she turned her attention to the tall High Elf. His words confirmed the markings on his armor, a member of the Vigilant of Stendarr. Though she had never met one, she had read enough during her years in Daggerfall about their long years of battle against Daedra worshippers and necromancers, and the particular problem of vampires and werewolves in her homeland. The dark looks and accusations of murder made her sigh deeply. Perhaps it was hard to hear of a woman being killed but Gaela had stumbled upon a Daedra shrine before when exploring a cave and the haunting images of layers of dried blood and human skulls was something she would not soon forget. 

She glanced at Fiona, she could see her worry and how she held herself. The young woman held her tongue and perhaps that was the wisest course, to say too much around the volatile tempers would cause more strife. The tension was thick after Cyrendil finished his speech, an explanation of his duties that would fall on deaf, uncaring ears. It meant little to most folks, just as much of the intricacies of her own work would bore them to tears.

Gaela winced and glanced at Kirella, she was offended and understandably so. Her work insulted and a veiled threat of being associated with Daedra worshippers by a Vigilant would be upsetting. Her curiosity about the dusky skinned woman grew as she heard her speak, the stutter more pronounced as her indignation rose. With spells often being very particular on how they were said she wondered how she had managed to obviously advance in her craft with the impediment. Making a mental note to speak with the other mage, she watched as the High Elf moved away, stiff backed in his careworn armor. 

The rest of the group changed the subject to what she had asked about. A plan. The first few ideas were shaky and vague, as expected. Sneaking and trickery, and likely storming the gates of the orc had his way. A job this intricate would call for more complexity and likely more than one way to skin a cat. 

Gaela tried to stay focused on the older man, the one with the funny floppy hat and the name that struck fear into travelers. Blood Red Brynn. He was straight and to the point, they needed to get moving and work together but she was wary of him taking the lead. Of course, as it was, none of them seemed choice and she certainly was no leader, especially not on a job of intrigue and bloodshed. There was the Orc with the pouch of gold to consider but when it came down to it, she thought Brynn at least would have experience working with groups of individuals.

She could not help but roll her eyes at the tattooed hunter as he proclaimed his preference of travel companions. Despite his mouth, he seemed a solid person to have in a time like this. Someone who knew the land and could scout, that would allow them to make an approach other than right down the main road if needed. Gaela had seen him free the other prisoners and found it thoughtful, she had not remembered them in her rush to help the dying. A shudder went through her to think of the suffering they had been spared, a slow death of starvation and thirst. 

The dark skinned warrior joined them shortly after she had predicted he would join the feast for the crows when he ran towards the bandits. The last moment decision that it would be a fool’s errand to try to draw on the men that vastly outnumbered him saved him from a quick demise. She eyed him, at least the idea to move on and plan somewhere other than outside the smoking ruins of the village was sound. 

With the rest, she turned and stuck near Fiona, not that she knew her any better but a few exchanged words and the shared experience of saving the speared man made her feel more comfortable with the woman warrior. She could see the scrawny kid Finch scuttle ahead and the tall frame of the elf farther than any of them. The slight man with the furtive smile insisted gold and a brothel was needed to further their plans. Gaela wondered if they did find such a thing if they would be able to pry the men out of there long enough to do their job. 

Gaela drifted to the road side, reaching down now and then to snatch a plant, her eyes brightening at the familiar and comforting occupation. She refrained from expressing her opinions about the ideas being tossed around, collecting her thoughts as they made their way to town.