Isidore dropped down low as Leuca hid behind him. He counted twenty easily, armed and armored just as well as the two that they had come across further down the mountain. It was more than he was willing to deal with, perhaps even more than he’d be willing to fight if he had a gun. His eyes lingered briefly on the star-eating serpent that served as their banner. Curious imagery. Snakes were devils, back on Earth. [b]“Augusta,”[/b] he murmured, keeping his gaze on the encampment. [b]“Can you read them?”[/b] Augusta stared over the camp, worried that one of the many men there might notice them at this point. She double checked her hood to make sure it was pulled over her ears tightly. When Isidore asked if she could read them, she shook her head. “That they have names. Not much more from here. Maybe I need to level up my eye so I can glean information from further out.” She pondered for a second before removing the thought from her mind. “What’s the plan, Isidore?” Isidore raised a brow, shifting slightly to face her. [b]“How would you “level” it up?”[/b] "I'm unsure if it's possible. Some of this has seemed like a game so it was a bit of a thought." Augusta shrugged, the faintest hint of defeat hovered on her face. "Becoming practiced perhaps." He nodded, then fell into silence for a while longer. The ideology of these humans, beyond their racially-charged violence, was that the world was false. A dream perhaps, the whim of a god or two. That wasn't so far off from his own beliefs about the place of the Storyteller in this world. And if they are to move through this place safely… [b]"Leuca and Octavia stay behind. We are travellers, seeking the land beyond the village. We'll approach. We return the horn, and direct their attention to the dead at the foot of the mountain."[/b] A pause. [b]"If they discover who you are, Augusta, talk your way out of it. If we must run, go first; I'll follow."[/b] "A dangerous proposition you have there. Though, it should work nicely if all goes well, I can't imagine us coming out of this well if it all goes south." Augusta seemed somewhat hesitant of the plan considering the wrong step would sic twenty hostiles on her. "But, i'll trust your plan." Isidore closed his eyes, calculations of risk and reward whirring through a brain that envisioned everything so much more clearly than it used to. A moment later, he stood up and strode towards the encampment, Augusta following from behind. In one hand, he held the dwarvish polearm, and in another he held the horn that he had taken from one of the dead men. Locking eyes with the guard on the outermost perimeter, Isidore raised up the horn in the air. [b]“This belongs to yours, yes?”[/b]