[h3]Sir Yanin Glade[/h3]
	Lady Bor, and after presumably dismissing the swaigh, Deo'Irah and Lhirinthyl moved over to them. Madara observed her approach, taking half a step back, but once it became evident there was no effect on the humans or penin, didn't waste time hurrying over to the farmhouse to take a closer look at the damage.
	The appearance of the deigan instantly made the this far quite uncooperative bandit to go on the offensive - as much as someone injured, unarmed and with the spike of a halberd pointed at his chest at just slightly out of the reach of his remaining hand could be. Which was mainly spitting insults. 

	[i]'Killed the world?' The ... farmers or homesteaders or whatever these people here were? 'You people?' [b]What[/b] bloody people? The plague - the Withering?[/i] Not that he needed to wait for clarification for too long, since Lhirinthyl tossed a tabard onto the ground and did his best to try and grind it into the dirt. [i]Fucking[/i] Crusader's Guild. Of course it had to be these people, and not merely a hired band of ragtag mercenaries. Any information about their plans would be beneficial, but at least one question had been answered. [i]Of course[/i] Kevalorn and the lot would try to blame the Withering on 'literally anyone who is not human'. Naturally. 	
	Looking down at the crusader, Yanin wondered what brought a man to be so full of fanatical rage towards unwitting passersby, but perhaps he didn't want to know. Or maybe he had a good enough idea already. The poor sod had lost everyone, and these bloody bastards were the only ones to welcome him. It didn't matter that the overarching goal of this group was just as bogus as encompassing some random farmers living in the rear end of nowhere in the blame for the Withering, they had given him a purpose and an enemy to fight, and that was that. 
	Was it really, then, as Deo'Irah said? That he was now long past redemption? The guy looked what, Jordan's age? Lady Bor and Lhirinthyl threatening with torture when he, a human, had not probably didn't help with first impressions.
	Quintin seemed to run out of patience with the insults thrown at his superior and impaled the fledgling crusader. Yanin didn't stop him. The only visible reaction he seemed to have was him righting his halberd and resting its butt on the ground. 

	[color=f7976a]"These two -"[/color] one with a crossbow bolt in his guts and another with a bodkin arrow through his lung [color=f7976a]"- and the four in the farmhouse remain,"[/color] Yanin summarized, or perhaps wanted to confirm.
	By the end of the day, they would probably be all dead. [i]It was safer for them all this way, if none of them ever reached their destination.[/i] No doubt, there was the chance they'd have their own investigation into their lost, what, miscellaneous assault group?
	[color=f7976a]"Might need a cleanup here, or their investigation will lead them straight to Borstown,"[/color] Yaning noted. It was unclear how much of their presence here was known ahead of time, and how much was incidental. [color=f7976a]"The more we learn about what they're up to, the better. Might be more forthcoming to a human alone asking."[/color] He wasn't the best one for the task, as a rule. The most he had was patience. So Quintin? Jordan?
	Between the deigan, Lady Bor and Quintin, there was probably little need for him to stand around. Might as well as see if there was anything else on these people, their commander, or the chest.
	Before he left to poke around the battlefield and eventually head to the farmhouse, he noted to Irah,[color=f7976a]"Freagon might want to you and Kinder - by yourselves. [i]Soon.[/i]"[/color] He could probably keep the squires and assorted other people preoccupied if here and now was good enough.
	And, to the baroness, [color=f7976a]"They did find Bren. He's alive, at least."[/color] Deo'Irah probably wouldn't have left him behind and come over here if his condition was imminently critical. The details were up to her to sort out.