[b]Southern Coast of Naqah, Niraph[/b]

When the Naqah Daemonrexiac translated what the Healer was mumbling about, Warmaster Nemrod simply froze, his large eyes staring pure death at them, red glow returning to them again. No one, not even the Daemonrexa soldiers moved a muscle, or even said anything. While such tragedy had happened before under his command, with human villagers and tribesmen burning the bodies of any Daemonrexa soldiers they encountered for fear of curses or disease or simply out of their own twisted form of respect and tradition, such incidents were few and isolated, happening to far too few soldiers to cause any form of uproar. "You superstitious, moronic tribesmen! You-!" The Warmaster boomed. Shenda and the Imp survivor had both been in deep sleep, missing out on most of the troubles in their own ward, but now even they had awoken to the sudden explosion in the room. As soon as the Warmaster had exploded however, grief, sadness and a vague form of fear took over, "Fools..."

None of the Warmaster's outburst was translated however, as the Naqah Daemonrexiac, having been put into a very tough situation, far more than what his simple rowing job entailed, decided that no one would be offended if nothing of it was translated. After another moment of silence, the Warmaster simply removed his head from the room. In the meantime, a group of Daemonrexa had pushed through the crowd of marines, into the clinic. "This is an outrage!" A Familiar cried upon seeing the condition the three survivors were in. While the Naqah had no doubt done their best, almost everything was different from Daemonrexa medical standards, and thus unacceptable. The bandages were tied wrongly, the medicine that the survivors reeked of smelt all wrong. Even the very air was filled with the wrong stench, and without incense and other aroma deemed necessary for recovery. All three Daemonrexa were beginning to leak hideous black snot and phlegm again, indicating infections. "Take them back to the ships immediately!"

The Familiar, who was the Naqah Healer's counterpart, stared daggers at him, to complement the Warmaster's hateful look before snarling at him like an animal. Spitefully flung words could be heard as the Familiar Healer was leaving, following the soldiers carrying the wounded away, "These savages and their primitive 'medicine'!" Luckily, or unluckily for the Naqah, the Naqah Daemonrexiac refused to translate these words as well.

An inexperienced and fresh looking female Mediocris who was dressed as a nurse, however, stayed for a moment, feeling sorry for the Naqah locals who she was sure had been through alot because of their unplanned arrival, "I'm sure they are grateful, foreign dignitary. They lived because of you. Life is just extremely precious to us all, and it pains us if even one is lost." Having finally found something worthy to be translated, the Naqah Daemonrexiac did so very willingly. With that, the nurse left to catch up with the healer and the wounded.

"Overseer Biara, I leave these barbarians in your capable hands. Do whatever that needs to be done." The Warmaster said before leaving the windows of the clinic entirely, making his way back to his command ship. "I will suffer them no longer." The translator simply said 'Warmaster Nemrod is retiring to his ship. Overseer Biara is now in charge." He waves a hand over to a dark-skinned Succubus who was quite tall and Amazonian with fiercely toned muscles bulging, no doubt a Succubus that had spent more time in the military than she did on stage, behind a writer's desk or in a harlot's palace. Her arms and hands were covered in silver-gilded armour to preserve their use in combat, and her helmet seemed invulnerable and well decorated. Her greaves were similarly ornate and well designed to preserve the lower half of her legs. Her hooves were in silver gilded steel shoes that lengthened them, the shoes ending in blunt spikes for balancing, jewel and as make-shift weapons. However, like Shenda, she was otherwise entirely naked from neck to thigh. A pair of broadswords hung on her back on leather straps coming from the armour on her arms.

"Everyone leave! I need to speak to the elder. Alone." Biara ordered, and very quickly, the 5 maniples of Daemonrexa soldiers and her fellow Overseers obeyed her command and went outside. When the Naqah Daemonrexiac turned to follow everyone else, she pulled him back and ordered him to stay and close the door behind her. Being the most senior and loved of the Overseers, she was deeply respected, second only to Warmaster Nemrod. When she was finally alone with the Naqah she had to deal with, she simply looked at them with eyes teeming with a strange and impossible mix of lust, respect, hatred and judgement, but unlike Warmaster Nemrod, she preferred to be calm, sometimes eerily so.

After finally having her fill of looking at the Naqah up and down, Biara smiled and pulled out her twin swords, swinging them around such that she held them underhanded... Before handing them over to the translator. "I apologise for the... rudeness of my fellow warriors. Poor old Nemrod- no shoulder could ever be strong enough to carry the weight of a thousand immortal lives. In fact, a number of his friends and intimate ones were amongst the dead. Not to mention, he is one very, very *passionate* leader, I must say." The Succubus said, her voice melodious and intentionally seductive, her words chosen by not just her desire to do her duty and pay the right complements, but to toy with the elder both for her own amusement and practical purposes. Before continuing any further, she introduced herself, "I am Biara, Overseer of the 1st Century of the 5th Naval Legion of the Free Republic of Devaldis-Spes. But enough with the formalities." She giggled suggestively, "There is much we need to... talk about."

Sitting down on a hospital bed, she motioned for the elder to sit beside her before continuing with the discussion, "I'm sure you must be very tired, and we might... spend a great deal of time together." her tail swishing about in anticipation.