The knight watched as theories and greetings were shot about the tent like arrows between a battlefield with a stony expression on his face. He came to realization with such a thought; Both of the women had been playing with weaponry, a man held a club in his hands, and another had a javelin propped up beside him. They were all presumably armed, with no idea of where they were or what they were suppose to do- and indeed, bringing his weaponry was all he remembered from the past few days, the rest nothing but a blur. But theories would do no good for the group as a whole, and thus he turned towards devising a way to communicate.

Written messages were all he could imagine, and the idea came to him as the rustling of a quiver filled the tent, and then a name. Tiandra, an odd one; and yet, it was far more odd to see a woman outside of the empires in the first place, much less one out adventuring. The knight swiftly pushed himself up and took several steps towards Tiandra, offering an outstretched hand to request an arrow to write with. It would likely be a misinterpreted notion, but it was a start nonetheless.

The darker skinned man had walked towards Sigrun and asked if something was troubling her in a friendly manner. She stared at him, bewildered. Of course she had never been good at conversations, but a direct confrontation was worse for her. She slid her Kard into it's sheath hanging from her waist, and stepped away from the man. She wasn't scared, but instead terrified of the ramifications of the conversation going out of hand, revealing compromising details.
"I'd rather not speak..." she muttered, taking another step back. She gripped her book tightly, protecting it's contents from public view. Sigrun was afraid the Black Man would grow angry if she let her lips slip or if the book was read.
______
The elderly chief stood a couple feet from the encampment, admiring the scenery, when dust began to approach from the capital city. A closer look revealed that it was an imperial leigon, accompanied by Thenza himself.
"What could that man possibly want with us now?" he asked himself slowly in a raspy voice.
A younger member of the tribe walked alongside him.
"It's that time of year again I see..."

“Ah, I hated those kinds of deserts, couldn't get a good rest, and I ended up getting too thirsty from eating too much for energy.” Vincent said grinning, as she tried to shy away from attention, although that would result in the opposite. In fact, he was about to enquire, when someone else thought the same, and he stopped as not to intrude on any conversation he could have with the girl.

He heard two names: Marnid and Tiandra. Vincent felt he could take down Marnid, and Tiandra if she didn't draw her bow, but wasn't sure he could fight the knight, unless he could get out in the hot sands.

Stop thinking about that sort of thing, you are taking a break from chasing down another straggler, and besides, this is getting interesting

“I'm not sure what you all are doing here, I'm a vagrant at the moment, and rested here; Might be going back where I came from.” He said. It was mostly the truth, after hunting down his prey, he did the usual habit of entering shelter, although he didn't recall others being there, but he ignored his own advice in the case that the straggler escaped his sights.

Just as Tiandra went to put her arrow back into her quiver, the armoured man got up and approached her with his hand outstretched. She assumed he was asking for something, though what did she have? She wasn't exactly carrying any money on her, though she patted her sides to check anyways. Something about him didn't seem like a beggar though, if he was truly down on his luck he would have sold his armour or something. Perhaps he wanted her arrow? Though that would be stupid too, why would he want it? Maybe he wanted to draw on the ground as she had? She smiled, it was true that drawing was quite a stress reliever, at least to her. Here they were kidnapped, maybe he wanted to relieve some stress too, she reached into her quiver and took out on of her arrows and handed it to the man.

"Here you go" she said cheerfully, though if he happened to be someone insane, and he snapped her arrow on purpose, she would give him a piece of her mind, and her fist. Arrows like hers weren't exactly sold everywhere, in fact, most of them she had to make herself, she did have a bunch of left over arrowheads from the blacksmith, and a few she had picked up while on her travels, the rest she could do herself, though she needed to find the right shaft and adequate feathers for the tail.

Well, further discussions happened, but they were not from him, nor did he actually intend to start any. Kidnapping was an impossibility at this point. A great plate clad knight had requested an arrow from the woman who called herself Tiandra. To what end, there was no telling at this point but still, his question remained unanswered. From another interaction between a woman and another man. Well it would be appropriate to call her a girl, considering her stature. Still, to possess a weapon meant some form of maturity and he'd rather not ask her age. The basic niceties were in fact very useful in day to day life, especially when you were a trader. Regardless, he was not getting anywhere at this rate. Travelling the road, the most welcome stop was always where the closest major city was. They had inns, and other, amenities, in which to acquire ones bearing and be equipped for the next leg of life's interminable journey.

"Well, if any of you don't have an answer, I guess I should one who does," he said, mostly to himself and walked out again.

The heat was making him impatient to leave it for milder weather.

OOC: I'll just move this along a bit :/

Thenza hailed the nomadic group, his stature rising far above the shrinking, elderly chief. His golden breastplate shone under the rays of Azlafed, the glint matching the smirk on his face. His immensely built body exhumed no sweat, as if it was immune to the effects of the heat. It also might have helped due to the fact that he wore a white cape protecting his back from the harsh desert sun.
"Nazbula!" his voice echoed through the wastes of the desert, and could easily be heard by those in the surrounding area. "It is ritual season once again. Have you an offer this year, or must I take the lives of another five members in this tribe?" His wicked grin widened at this thought.

The old man stood there, unmoved by Thenza's tremendous presence.
"I have no offering." he calmly answered. His sorrow etched upon his face was hidden by the hood of his cloak, but it was clear through his wavering voice.

"Nazbula! We do not have to offer up any more of our kin!" the young man beside him shouted. "We can offer up those who steal from us our supplies! The travelers! They ca-"
The sound of torn flesh and shattered bones rang through the air.

Thenza's right arm was drenched completely with blood, dripping profusely from the forearm.
The young man lay on on the ground in two halves, cut in a downward diagonal angle, blood cascading from the wound. He was dead before he even realized, and his eyes fluttered around erratically.
The old man did not move an inch, tears of pain slowly traveling down his face. It had happened before, every year, but he could never get over the innocent lives lost.

"Now, that is one offer! Bring me the rest!"

((And I might as well post too. Sorry if this is monotonous or repetitive, kind of lost interest at the end, likely due to making this longer then normal again.))

The knight took the well-sharpened arrow within a gentle hand and gave the girl a quick smile. He then took a few cautious steps back before crouching down to the sandy floor and beginning to write. It was a swift yet refined attempt, one practiced by nobles; though it was not likely any of the occupants of the tent would recognize it, partly owed to his rusty penmanship, but mostly to the fact none of them exactly looked like a noble. After all, the ones that remained were safely held up in strongholds and castles as far as the somewhat oblivious knight knew. The man quickened his pace, now spelling out a legible "Isaac", and yet he continued further to the right. Mere moments passed before his last name followed, "Warryn". As Isaac admired his handiwork, a voice filled the air, emerging from somewhere outside the tent. "Nazbula!" the voice shouted, echoing inside the knight's mind. Curiosity overtook Isaac and he released the arrow onto the floor gently, as close to the girl as was within his reach, and he head towards the opening in the tent. He was met with a gruesome sight, a blade coming down onto a young man mid-sentence; cutting him in two, blood sprouting from the painlessly slaughtered corpse. The knights' stomach turned with both rage and disgust. A cloaked figure stood next to the body, unmoving, though it was not him that had caught his attention, but the man- rather, men-- on a steed in front of him. It was Thenza of The South himself, a man that brought a burning fury to the humble knight. This fury brought him back towards his previous area of the tent, first grabbing his armet and slipping it over his head, then the longsword laying in the sand. Hefting the blade with two hands was an easy feat for Isaac after so many years of use, and this time was not an exception. He took not a single second to warn the others in the tent before breaking into a sprint out of the tent, sword held in front of him.

Ooc: I might not be able to post much for a while (troubles at home, school, etc.), but I'll make sure to keep up.

And then he saw it, a young man split in two before his very eyes. Not that was uncommon for bandits to do so but this did not seem like an ordinary bandit. Such radiant armour suggested much more. What Marnid also managed to catch snippets of the conversation.

"We can offer up those who steal from us our supplies! The travelers!" was it? So they were thieves and that was how they ended up in the tent. Not that Marnid understood what was going on exactly but it was a start. From the tent emerged a plate armoured knight whose countenance was driven to fury as the young man was cut down. Quickly the knight returned in to the tent, presumably to fetch his equipment and avenge the young, such was their honour.

Marnid was right and the man returned shortly after, intent upon engagement. It an unwise course of action so early on, so Marnid held his arm out in the way.

"Hold, ser Knight, we are too few and unprepared," Marnid started, hoping the knight would stop, "I doubt your sword could cut open that bastard. If you would be so kind, we should fetch the others."

Viper came out of the tent to a rather... gruesome sight. A young corpse was on the ground, fresh blood seeping from both halves of it. Seeing a rather bloody sword in the hands of a rather nicely armored man told him quite enough to know who killed who. As an ex-assassin, it was common to see death, but this... this was monster-like.

Fury filled his shaded eyes, not paying attention to anything but this monster in disguise. He had always killed targets painlessly, and he had his doubts that this had been so here. He saw the knight leave the tent once more, with this time carrying both helmet and weapon (he had come out a little bit after the knight came in to fetch his armet and sword), and guessed they both had the same idea. However, another man told the knight that it would be wise to wait for the others, and thus he stood ready for the deadly armored man to make a move of sorts.

It wasn't easy waiting with the heat surrounding him, but that wasn't quite paid attention to. It was the rage and fury that he had to hold back, his arm twitching slightly with the urge to reach for his quiver and fire one of his more painful poison arrows into the hand of the monster's hand, just so it would take longer for him to die. More than all of his focus was on that man, and nothing but permission to fire would break that.

Another man come out of the tent as well. Still, three was not nearly enough to stop this, legion of men. No doubt they were led by a cruel and unfettered man but that was only an opinion, a first impression. There was no leadership at all around times like these when they were most needed. Sighing, Marnid took fate by the haunches and violated her with as much force as he could muster. Poking his head inside, he only issued a statement.

"We have a situation outside, those wanting to not be remembered had best arm themselves and come out right now."

Turning his attention back to the legionnaires and commander, his hand slipped the black jack out from his belt. He heft it one hand, the weighted end resting in the other. It but a reassuring gesture, as many run in with road side bandits had taught him. This was not a simple fight against bandits however.

Quickly he surveyed the immediate surroundings. The ground was clear of obstructions between them and the legion. However, it was quite sandy where feet had not compressed the sand to form a path. That would be advantageous to those lightly armoured. From there, it was a score or so paces to the slain youngster in the sand. There was no need to exhaust themselves unnecessarily.

"I have a plan," he started, "We should form two lines if possible, ranged members at the rear, and those who can handle melee at the front. Nock an arrow but do not draw. If they draw their weapons against us, you are free to fire at your own discretion."

Tiandra read the paper that the armoured man had written on with her arrow, the penmanship seemed familiar, a likened fluid style in the script that reminded her of the gifts she always received on her birthday. She never knew who it was, but she knew that person was quite rich, having supplied her with money, arrowheads, and various other tools. It made her smile to think of those memories. "Isaac Warryn" she read aloud. Just as she was about to greet him by his name a loud voice rang out through the stillness of the desert heat. It was quite unusual, or at least she thought so, for up until now everything had seemed to be at a lull the murmuring of animals, the laughter of children, the shifting sands. Isaac dropped her arrow and headed towards the opening of the tent, Tiandra reached out and caught it by the shaft before placing it in her quiver. She didn't really care about what took place outside, it had nothing to do with herself.

In a few moments Isaac returned, his countenance seemed change, perhaps he saw something of interest. She watched as he grabbed his helmet which he placed onto his head and sword. Isaac then sprinted out of the tent with his weapon drawn, was it some sort of dispute? She wondered momentarily before noticing that another man had got up to go outside as well. It seemed that people just happened to be too nosy these days, she was going to leave everything alone, so she leaned against the back of the tent.

Marnid poked his head into the tent and said, "We have a situation outside, those wanting to not be remembered had best arm themselves and come out right now." That got her attention and she stood up, perhaps it would be best if she went out and saw for herself what exactly was going on. She to narrow her eyes briefly as they grew accustomed to the glare of the sun's rays. Her eyes then widened at the scene presented before her, a legion of imperial soldiers, and a fresh body laying in the sand, staining the golden sand with its crimson blood. She almost gasped at the sight, death was quite normal, as was murder though that was just disgusting, a monstrosity.

Marnid explained the plan, she thought herself to be quite versatile but she would stay back as a ranged fighter if things escalated to such conditions. Tiandra reached into her quiver and took out two arrows earlier treated with her black igniting powder. She stuck one into her belt and the other she struck along the ground causing it to burst aflame. She nocked the burning arrow and pointed ahead, her expression grim, and her eyes scanning for any movements.

Harvey heard what sounded like a call about some kind of ritual, then a protest which immediately had a noise that reminded him of a butcher cutting meat a few moments before it finished. Opening his eyes, he saw that the knight wrote something on the floor, which took Harvey a few seconds to see that it spelled the man's name until looking at the more readable parts. The knight in question moved to the outside (but not before politely dropping the arrow close to the woman he got it from). Seeing as nothing could be solved by simply sitting in the tent, he was about to follow, but the Knight (whose name was Warryn) went back in for his belongings, obviously preparing for some kind of confrontation. Then, Marnid popped in, and said,

"We have a situation outside, those wanting to not be remembered had best arm themselves and come out right now." Vincent sighed and stayed where he was. He couldn't fight as he was right now, it felt against his nature, at least in the guise of Vincent Harvey. “I-I'll be ah, right behind you all, I just need time to prepare” he said, as cowardly as he could. It would be a good excuse to set up, away from the sight of others.

OOC: Just to resolve confusion, he cut the man him half with his forearm, not a sword. Every ruler is a bit of a godmod, just to warn you before further surprises, but Thenza is the strongest.

The others in the tent emerged outside in a hurry, but Sigrun watched them flutter away at the moment, deciding not to leave with them. Instead, she poked her head out the tent, and watched carefully. With her measly Kard, she could not dream of taking down even one soldier head on, it had to be a surprise confrontation to do an good. Thenza's breastplate gleamed in the sun, and she stared at his blood soaked right arm with great interest. These brutal executions were standard in Thenza's iron-fist state. It was said that his body was as hard as plate armor and his arms had the cutting ability of fine blades. Records tell of a magnificent day where he decimated an entire army with his arms alone, chopping them up into thin slices.
Sigrun could not allow these people kill themselves, no matter how little she actually knew them, but could only communicate, unwilling to leave the safety of the tent.
"Thenza is a monster!" she shouted to the group, forming their positions. "He'll kill you without a second thought in a heartbeat! Look at what he did to that man!"
_____
Thenza was thoroughly amused by the strong will of those standing up to him.
"You best listen to the whore!" he called to the group. "I do not need an army to devastate your little makeshift band of scum!" His wicked grimace widened further and hearty laugh boomed. He signaled his troops to fall back. There was no need for armed back up, the intimidation factor does not work on the foolish.

Nezbula slowly stepped away from the zone, noticing the rise in tension between the two groups. He did not wish ill-will upon the travelers, but their inevitable doom was at hand, and he merely sighed heavily.

"Thenza is a monster!" the shy young girl who was still in the tent shouted to them "He'll kill you without a second thought in a heartbeat! Look at what he did to that man!"

"Girl, if there is any where we can go, it is best you tell us now," he replied, "Its not hard to plan a fighting retreat but without a place to retreat to it would only delay the inevitable."

Marnid turned back as the man named Thenza dismissed his horde of soldiers. For a man to be able to do just that and still command the fear in Marnid's heart was incredulous. Perhaps it was wise to listen. More had joined the line of battle, if it could be called that. But then again, the man was in plate armour and for what good that did him, it had several weaknesses. First of all, he seemed to not be wearing a helmet, as his voice reached across expanse that separated them. A clean hit on the noggin would leave him dazed enough to be finished off. Otherwise an arrow could give him something else to think about. That and there were obviously places were there was no armour where a well placed attack would cripple him. That was not an issue for Marnid though, his bludgeoning weapon was meant defeat armour anyway.

"Ser Knight, I hope you know where to aim for in the chinks of his armour," he said to the knight before addressing the whole once more, "Prepare to conduct a fighting retreat. Aim to cripple him but if you can, take his head. Watch for his arms, you saw what he did to the man. Girl, now would be a good time as any."