[hr][center][img]https://i.imgur.com/N9jmKKq.png[/img][img]https://i.imgur.com/tRiE84p.png[/img][/center][hr] Morag-Nog was normally up earlier than most. When the wakeup call hit her she felt the weight of something on her face... and after getting up it fell off her face off the side of her head. She looked down and saw the book she was reading last night and was reminded of how she spent her evening. Reading. She shook her head as she ran a hand over her shaved head and rubbed her eyes. God damn it, she should have gone to sleep when she had the chance. Not like she was a stranger to being uncomfortable, she loudly yawned. Fortunately, she was the only person that shared this particular tent. So, Morag-Nog was wearing her sleepwear, she was going to conduct personal hygiene and then move onto the meeting. After all of that, Morag-Nog put on her boots and outfit, grabbed the Tusk, and then went to their tent. When she stepped in she pushed the curtains aside and saw that everyone had assembled here. From their company Chaplain to Scrapbeak, the other archer that comes to mind. The Captain and his brat were there with the former taking charge as usual. Morag-Nog made sure to find herself a spot in the back and crossed her arms with her masterpiece attached to her back with a black strap. Morag-Nog was perfectly content with keeping quiet and listening until she had something meaningful to add. It seemed Scrapbeak was doing the same thing... as per usual. Irae was quick to demonstrate that, yet again, he was more than just a priest. He took charge with the same tactical fervor as a general, saying that the tower was made to be defended (Well, so were a lot of places here). What got her attention was the suggestion that most of their archers take potshots at them. Which, of course, meant Morag-Nog and her wonderful weapon. It took Morag-Nog a second to realize that Rowan was speaking - he was just so damn short he got lost in their meetings sometimes. He brought up what she was going to bring up, covering the people who were going to scale the building. She shrugged. There was something on her mind. "What are the odds the numbers of the bandits are accurate?" She questioned, "And how much are we being paid?"