The trek around the dangerously tall grass was time consuming, but much to their fortune at least half their number had some sort of tie to the wild heart and it made what might well have amounted to a major delay into one quite minor. This was a welcome distraction from what the paladin knew was coming before him, a test of his self and resolve. It was not that he could not escape his bonds if need be, or at least as he had been told, but that he was to be roped and bound at all. This was a motion of trust and sacrifice, one he truly hoped would let him seek out this missing man they so needed, this "Leosin" and if at all possible, strike a blow against this cult. What that was to be Brannor did not know, rather he prayed to the ferine pool within him, that ethereal might, that it would make it clear if at all possible; as distinct a beacon as the dawn itself.

Surveying now where the path led them, what he beheld did not rouse much additional confidence. Whatever this place was, with its smoky pillars billowing ash into the otherwise pristine air, certainly did not belong; it reeked of outside influence in what amounted to otherwise rocky grassland. Yet, all the same, the outlander doubted if this was [i]the[/i] camp and not just [i]a[/i] camp. As it was their foe was ramshackle, some ugly force made up scaled beasts and filthy, coin-loving men, headed off by zealots sworn to some unheard of queen. All of its business roused nothing but disdain in Brannor's heart, at least he was certain of that.

"Is this it?" The huntsman inquired, looking to the halfling and the young woman, trusting them to know better of what this camp was to have been than he, the bear-man and the half-blood orc.

Folding his arms, leather rubbing against the chain links across his chest, he returned to staring at the scene before them as distant as it was. Clearly of the many things he took confidence in, that the [i]Silver Lady[/i] would see their deeds through, this turn of events was not what he imagined. When they said "army" Brannor imagined some great sea of tents, smoke, fire, steel and wood, some force of reckoning bearing down on the land headed by a cult of draconic fools... not [i]this[/i], not some strange rocky plateau with but a seeming tower resting atop it.

With a determine sigh and shake of his head from side to side in disapproval, he added, "Then we might as well make ourselves ready... assuming the intent is to still walk myself into the camp as a captive."

The golden eyes warily observed their reactions thereafter.

[@Hekazu][@Ryonara][@Lucius Cypher][@Gordian Nought][@Norschtalen]