[color=lightblue]"I'll pass on the acid this time, don't need that particular plan flying back in my face."[/color] The glance from the Crowsnguard, who he had christened as Spooky as half joke, half proof of her ability to just crop up without warning, said enough. Having not been told off, it would probably stick for the foreseeable future. It was an attempt to be friendlier with the assassin, at least overtly, to help make up for the fact that he really wasn't supposed to know about her profession. Still, that was consideration for later, Boss had given the marching orders. Spooky and Hector would loose the horses and scare them off, and once the horses were turned loose, the vanguard would run down the rest of the slaver mercenaries before they could wrangle their horses or organize properly. Odds were in their favor, surprise should be on their side since it was unlikely anyone would be around to attack, so he suspected the mercenaries would not be exactly ready for a fight, beyond lookouts if they were sufficiently disciplined.

Kneeling behind the cover of the rocky outcropping, Urden kept his axe low, out of sight to keep any sort of moonlight from reflecting off the blade. Not that he was certain it would, he kept his weapons and attire clean, but not polished to a reflective sheen. Once again, Urden found himself in the waiting portion of the life of a soldier, which was the part that he knew more than a few didn't particularly enjoy. He didn't mind it, it let him gather his thoughts, get things tidy before getting stuck into another fight. Back to back raids made for a long night, sure, but other than the exertion of putting down the slaughter doll, the cultists hadn't proven too taxing on them, so he was confident in referring to the group as relatively fresh. So Urden mostly let his brain meander, waiting for the order to attack so he could focus again and launch headlong into the fight again.