The attack had been swift and well executed. Kian almost laughed when the arrows came whistling out of the trees and the screams erupted up the road. He had figured the Lord of Light would not have let him die so ignominiously at the ass end of the world. Though, admittedly, he had been a bit worried there for a moment. 

The Red Priest did gape, however, when he saw the vanguard of his saviors. 

"Dothraki!?" He echoed to himself. He had a comically bewildered look on his face as arrows arced past his vision and men and horses collided with the poorly equipped Faith Militant. Blood spurted and men screamed, accompanied by the whooping cries of the Dothraki and the more stoic warcries from the notably more armored Westerosi that followed them. Amid the chaos, Kian decided he would not question good fortune. His rescuers were curious, but that just made it all the more interesting. His thoughts were interrupted by a particularly girlish squeal, and he winced when he saw a Faith Militant being murdered in an exceptionally brutal fashion. 

Still, he waited patiently for the one sided slaughter to finish, not saying another word and simply watching. Soon, the cries of pain and elation subsided, now replaced by the moaning of the dying and the laughter of the victorious. He felt the rope around his wrists begin to chaffe a bit, but otherwise he was not in too big of a hurry to speak to whoever led this warband. Of course, he swiftly changed his mind when a well armored and lovely woman approached him, leaving behind a still warm corpse she had just comforted. It seemed like there was going to be one surprise after another today, and it occurred to the itinerant priest that despite being saved, he was still in quite a precarious position. 

"Yes, I've noticed." He replied to her. "I've watched as you Westerosi have shared your culture with each other all morning. I suppose it's a bit like the Dothraki, though a bit less bloody and far more talk of justification." At that last word, he chuckled. He found the woman had introduced herself well, at least. He visibly brightened when the maiden spoke so knowledgeably with the epitaphs of his deity. She sounded educated, and moved with an almost courtly etiquette. Kian did find it curious she was leading these men, a tale he was most interested in hearing. Her invitation arrived just after that thought, actually. 

"I would be a madman to refuse after that introduction. To say it would be a delight would be a disservice, my lady." He responded, his voice as smooth as liquid gold. "And before you ask, yes, I do lay it on thick. Erm-" He looked at the corpses of the zealots on the ground, shrugging. "Perhaps a bit too thick, I admit." 

He gestured to his hands, or that was to say, he sort of wriggled a bit and gesticulated with his head towards his back. "If you would do me the kindness of cutting me loose, I would be much obliged. I go by the name of Kian, and as you guessed, I am a priest of R'hllor, Defender of the Lord of Light, The Heart of Fire, God of Flame and Shadow. And truth be told, he's been a bit of a jokester as of late, it seems." 

All this talk of fire had Kian wondering if the phrase 'out of the pot and into the fire' was apt here. Hopefully not. 
[@Ruby]