[h3]Stonehill District -- West Gate[/h3]

Varathira felt her eyes slowly creak open to the sound of grating, guttural laughter, roused from her lazy slumber at the side of the carriage to her immense chagrin. The noise was entirely unpleasant, not that the sound of cackling ever was -- but the air of smugness it was laden with made it far, far worse.

Reminding herself that violence now would, indeed, solve nothing, Varathira resolved to try to talk her way through...

After listening a little longer, in hopes of better understanding what drove the ogres, surreptitiously closing her eyes again to keep up the appearance of still being asleep.

Every second she did, though, only made her wish she could deal with the ogres -- violently -- even more. Every filthy word that spilled out from their lips was utterly intolerable, either poorly veiled threat or a disgustingly childish expression of ignorance. Ignorance itself was no sin -- but whatever [i]these[/i] ogres had about them made her sick to her stomach, concern growing for her companions, each second spent listening and evaluating a grueling exercise in restraint which Varathira could only manage by casting her mind back to better times, spent in the company of centaur maidens and orcish warrior-women and with the heiresses of noble titles. That was enough to quiet her, at least for now...

Until vague threats turned to extortion. Varathira quietly sighed to herself as she fully stirred, rising from within the wagon to deftly sling herself over its side, the thin outfit cladding her marble-sculpted body fluttering in the air. 

[COLOR=FFD700]"Ah, excuse me,"[/color] she apologized, her voice like honey as she moved to join the rest of the entourage, forcing herself to put on the appearance of being tired-and bleary-eyed.

[COLOR=FFD700]"...But surely, such measures are hardly necessary? If you'd simply let us pass through this gate, we'll be out of your way. Won't have to lift a finger about us again that way."[/color] She chuckled, hoping to disarm the ogres with a self-deprecating joke -- if her preternatural charm didn't do the job by itself. At the very least, she wasn't about to let the party build itself a reputation for being extort-able... And besides, she was eager to enjoy the company of demons and devils, however dangerous they might be. Whatever was inside, it'd be much better than dealing with this brand of pointless childishness. Worst came to worst, she could offer a couple drinks of her most powerful liquor. Probably. Or the ogres would insist on greed, and chaos would ensue.