Now, now, here was something interesting in the little village. Harriet's eyes drew on the two men and sat there, hard and narrow as they told their little tale. It sounded a little flowery but convincing enough. Then again, it didn't matter if they had more to tell or had dressed up the situation. They had admitted to being slaving scum and that was enough to earn them both a private confessional with the Gunpowder Priestess. People really should be careful when they admit to being scum sucking pieces of rubbish that only serve the world as fertilizer, one day, someone might just hear that story and then decide to reduce your elevation by six feet. 

As they finished their little confession and threw themselves on the non-existent mercy of Harriet Brewer, not that they knew that was what they were doing, the gunslinger glanced down at the large felid by her side. He looked properly miffed about the whole shebang too. Good. She could count on Stary to help her out when it was a big noble who needed a kick down the stairs but she lacked someone who was willing to step up when it came to the stuff for the small folk. Looks like her companion here might be the unexpected one. 

Harriet leaned down closer to Lorenthar and made a very quiet and brief hiss noise to grab the druid's attention before she spoke in a barely audible voice. She knew she would be able to speak even more quietly with him than the others, after all, he was a cat. Cats had great hearing, "Y'thinkin' what I am?" she began, tossing a quick glance to the two slavers, "Think they need to be taught a lesson, eh? Teach'em th'forest is right dangerous if'n you don't pay attention." 

[@The Harbinger of Ferocity] [@Ermine]