Ardiane felt a chill go down her spine, and she slid off the horse. Frightened, she headed back into the wagon, where CA's discarded her for a different personality. Unbuttoning the blouse Ardiane had been wearing, tossing on a black waistcoat, and strapping the skirt into a pair of puffy pants, the man who stepped out of the wagon was a roguishly handsome tiefling.

He hefted the light crossbow in his hands, checking the dagger in his belt. "Looks like trouble?" Hymn asked the caravan master, running a finger across one of the ridged horns along his brow. He slouched in such a way as to convey relaxed confidence, and grinned the sort of lazy grin that made underclothes drop. Mostly women's. But he wasnt particular.