"Everyone take a sunrod. We'll leave the remainder with the wagon. Same with the daggers and holy water flasks, if we're dealing with Fiends they will come in handy." She put action to words, going to the cart and withdrawing the case of daggers and the bundle of sunrods, sliding one of each into her swordbelt, then strapping the flask of holy water onto the side of her pack. She took a glance back under the cover. "Wait, -that- kind of Scorpion?" The small ballista lay nestled among the less interesting bags of goods, effectively invisible if you didn't know what you were looking for. "Well, I suppose if we need to fight a Dragon that'll come in handy. Nine Hells..."
She began sorting through the equipment on the cart. "Markul, Eranah, you might want a look at these scrolls." She flicked one open and looked it over - the instructions for activating the magic stored within the parchment was familiar, a warding circle against evil powers. "I know how to handle this one, at least." She set it back down in the small case and left it among the specialized wares. She began sorting through their 'Cover Goods', mentally marking out which they would actually make use of and where to get at them in a hurry.
Her inventory done she moved back to the campsite. "I can't think of anything that'd make us better equipped to fight fiends. Nothing that we can get our hands on, anyway, much as I'd like a flight of friendly Dragons or a battalion of the Tormtar."
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"Wow, Gabriel was right about you people." Lily said, a dry note to her voice. "Come on, daylight's burning and the Moor is most dangerous at night. We'd best get moving now." She hoisted her pack to her shoulders. "We can discuss the particulars of our cover story en route, although fair warning - I'm bound by my oaths not to lie, and even if I weren't I'm also -terrible- at it. So when we get there I'll just hang back and look imposing."
Lily pointed at the halfling with her thumb. "Korick, how many letters did you send out? I'm starting to wonder if we might leave only for a dozen more people to show up, and then you're on Most Wanted posters for 'Least Tasteful Prank'." She turned and held out her bare hand to the newcomer. "Lily Beckett, Paladin. I'm here to lecture you on morality and generally be a busybody." Lily smiled. The joke was a little flat, but given the circumstances at least she could tell one.
After Bruce and Selina had left the immediate vicinity - although not necessarily earshot, she wasn't all that concern, she let out a long groan. "Uuuuuugh." She rotated her chair and gave the others a wry smile. "Well, at least I'm pretty sure we can all agree that this is going to be annoying. What in the hell is he thinking?" Barbara shook her head. "I could get it if it was just a sex thing, but marriage? Really?"
She had a feeling Damian might not be too keen about hearing about his father's sex life. Or any of them, really, but that was their problem. They'd never patched into Batman's suit for a chat midway through a liaison, they could live with discussing it a bit. "It's not that I think Selina's up to no good. On a scale of one to -" Joker was the go-to reference for that, but she slid right past it, "Victor Zsasz, I'd say she rates about a two. She was never really a threat. But Jesus, it's one thing to flirt on a rooftop, it's another to be married to someone."
Barbara wasn't crass enough to lay down a bet on how long the marriage would last, but the thought did flash through her mind.
"Korick, our party contains me, a celestial being, a bear, and a golem. I don't think pretending we're at the isolated settlement to trade will do us much good. And if there is some kind of Fiend-serving presence here...well, if I don't draw their notice Eranah will." She went to Arafaer and began unloading various supplies from the saddlebags - mostly food and water - and placing them into her own pack. She tugged off one gauntlet and began stroking Arafaer's mane, the horse beginning to idly nibble on the hem of her cloak.
"Quit it, you ridiculous animal." She half turned. "I'm not saying we kick in the doors, swords in hand, demanding answers. But I wouldn't expect the story about being there to trade to get much if any traction."
Lily approached the seated Elf. "I'm sorry for that. You acted with good intent, and I wish that your instinct had been the right one, truly I do. You have courage." She turned away. She doubted he wanted to see her much right now, and she couldn't really blame him. Lily focused her attention upon Korick.
"I can't think of any questions. We should get moving as quickly as possible, if we get moving now we can probably make the town by nightfall. I'd prefer not to travel on the High Moor by night, no sense in taking needless risks."
The answer would be no - Barbara wants to do it herself.
The undead warrior reeled backward under the strike of Torm's holy power, and turned to flee under the weight of the power, sprinting across the shore of the lake away from the group. Lily broke into a sprint after him. "Leave him to me!" She shouted over her shoulder as she ran, then focused on the sprint. As they left the campsite behind them Larris turned. "You won't escape me, Fallen! Face justice for your crimes!"
Something seemed to snap behind his eyes, and the blade was swept from its sheath as Vis moved aside. Paladin and Fallen closed on each other, and with a two-handed overhand strike from Lily battle was joined. The dead warrior shifted aside, Lily's blade glancing off the shoulder of his armor, and he returned with a thrust from his own blade, aimed to pierce the underside of Lily's pauldron. She twisted as the strike came, closing her arm and trapping the blade between arm and side.
He snarled in rage, and before she could take advantage of his position planted a boot into her chest and shoved, his unnatural strength dropping her onto her back. Before she could roll upright he was on her, a barrage of downward strikes, each narrowly knocked aside by her blade, until she slipped her leg behind his and tugged, sending him sprawling to the ground. She didn't waste the opportunity, rolling on top of him and slamming the hilt of her sword into his helm, the heavy wheel of metal denting the faceplate, constricting his vision.
Larris let out a primal howl of rage, slamming his fist into her chest before twisting and flinging her off, his strength sending her skidding across the soft earth, leaving a furrow in the soil. He grabbed his helm and yanked it off, showing his decayed face. His eyes scanned the landscape for a moment, then found Lily, rising to one knee, sword grasped in both hands. He didn't speak, just rushed at her.
She shifted her grip, grabbing her sword by the blade about half-way up with one hand, her other remaining on the hilt, and thrust forward as he approached, driving it into a gap on his greaves and pushing upwards, through the leg and into his gut. The Death Knight let out a grunt of pain or anger, as his own strike came down, smashing into her helm and slamming her to the ground, her sword still embedded in his flesh.
There was a long, deep gouge in her helm, and it seemed to have been knocked to the side, blinding her. The Fallen dropped atop her and raised his blade for a finishing blow, only for her left hand to snap up across his face, healing magic surging into his undead flesh. The flesh sizzled and popped, smoke rising from the wound, and he reeled backwards, letting out a primal howl of anguish, holding his smoking face and blind eyes. She rose, casting off her own helmet, and grasped her sword, tearing it out of him and raising it to her shoulder.
"May Ilmater have mercy on you." Her blade shone with a pale light and she swung, fire bursting around the blade as it cleaved through his neck, radiant, white light shining in the blade's wake as she Smited the fallen warrior, the holy light and steel together severing his neck. His head fell to the ground, and his flesh rapidly decayed to dust scattered by the breeze off the shore, leaving only bones. Lily knelt beside the body, clasping her hands together in prayer.
A few minutes later she returned to the camp, her helm once again slung over her shoulder. A deep, ugly bruise was forming across her forehead going behind her hairline, a trickle of blood running down her neck. "It's done."
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