Daixanos gave Kris a black look, clearly too tired and agitated that he had not been the one to free the slaves. But with a low rumble in the back of his throat, an alien sound to any race but the Saxhleel, he realize she was not to blame for any true slight against him. The hunter's eyes flicked back and forth between her and the slaves. The lead slave, the one had that shown he still had some spirit, stepped forward toward Dax. 

"Dax, you should not have come." he said to him. He was a leaner Argonian, his scales a vibrant moss green with webbed fringes framing his head. They both hissed at one another in some strange ritual-like greeting. He continued as if the small exchange had not occurred. "We were prepared to meet our fate. If the Hist-" 

"The Hist does not wish this!" Dax growled, stepped forward almost threateningly. His tail lashed, and while the end point was missing, to Kris it would be quite apparent that no one wanted to be whipped by the appendage. "I have been sent by them. You must survive and return to Blackmarsh. Go down the hill and hug the hills of ash. Continue south and do not stop until you are in swamp land. You will be safe." 

While most men and mer did not have the capacities to see much emotion in Argonian faces most of the time, it would be clear this Argonian was at least taken aback, if not in shock. "You will not come with us?" A part of Dax desperately wished he could, but he also had more Ebon blood to spill. He grabbed his comrade and shoved him forward, the slighter Argonian stumbling, catching his balance on his tail.

"I am expendable, Tsleeixth." Dax declared. "You are not. But I do not plan on dying today. Go!" He pointed at the other slaves, gesturing them to follow. "Flee, now!" It was practically a threat, and the others nodded, taking what supplies they could off the corpses and hurrying to the crest of the ridge that hugged the sheer drop of the ravine. Dax watched them go, making a strange sign to his friend Tsleeixth before he, too, was gone. 

A light wind carried a faint howl over the road the Breton and he stood on, making the ash laden sky even more eerie than one would usually perceive. Begrudgingly, he turned to the woman. The beastman regarded her in an indecipherable fashion, and he spoke. "You have my thanks, man." He meant the race rather than the gender, but the awkward word choice was lost on him. "I am Daixanos, and I am in your debt. I do not know why you have come, but I plan on continuing to aid those fleeing by making a distraction. One that ends the lives of many Dunmer before I flee east. If you wish, you may aid me. If not, fair weather on you, Landstrider." 
[@Penny]