"Well, that was easy," Esther muttered quietly as she saw the Hatchets utterly collapse into the chasm, or on the ground, within the span of a minute. She hadn't liked the odds, between their numbers surrounding the leader and their archers above. But, turns out, a big orc and a keen archer could make very quick work of them.

She pulled out a small handkerchief from one of her side pockets, lightly cleaned off the blood on her dagger, and messily scrubbed the cloth across the blood on her leather armor. The putrid smell of the red liquid was almost as bad as the stench that covered the entire length of the sewer; she could almost vomit. How were Maria and Orcimedes not even bothered by this?

She decided to ignore the orc and his... newfound pet... as she walked over with to Maria and the bandit leader. "Paladins can't just cure you from an addiction," she pointed out, stern and uncompromising in her voice. "It's going to take a long time to ease off from Witchpowder." She'd leave the leader's fate to Maria; quite frankly, the Hatchets were beyond Esther's help. "Just tell us where Hortensia is so we may return her to her father."

...After she got a long bath. Wouldn't be particularly nice to bring her back as a complete mess.

Esther's eyes briefly looked at Orcimedes again, and she waved over to Ashera and Serena with a terrible thought in her mind. "So..." she whispered to the two of them. "...Should we really just leave the orc here in Arc en Lume? He's a walking disaster waiting to happen in any city." His treatment and/or attempted adoption of Georgina may, or may not, have influenced Esther's concern.

“Oh right, we have an Orc.” The pirate had duly noted the defeat of the Red Hatchets and was all for celebrating their victory with a nice long bath and a pint or two to forget the stench. And maybe a reward for saving someone’s granddaughter would help ease the stress of this endeavour as well.

She sure hoped their stumpy-legged boss was at least grateful for their efforts, anyway.

“Might be good to get a leash for the hundur,” Serena helpfully offered. Bringing along a wild beast? Yeah, not the best idea to do that in Arc en Lume of all places. “Topside might get scared and all.”

The Orc had no trouble wrestling that thing to the ground, its attempts at snapping and clawing a moot endeavour between the giant's mighty grip. It was safe to say that he'd keep it in line proper. The logical thing, though, better safe than sorry and the Orc would most likely find other 'pets' to bring along. “Or how about a cat? They're… cuddly.”

Wilthro gave a dissatisfied coo, fighting the urge to put himself forward as the better pick. Or, y’know, cats and birds...

The pirate inched forward, circling the wrestling match before her with as big a space between them as she was comfortable allowing herself to make. And approached the beaten bandit lord with a lot less hesitation.

“Okay, before you smash his head into the consistency of applesauce,” Whether the flame priestess had intended to or not, she wasn't exactly the friendliest of people. “Let's take him at his word. Bring him and princess Hexagon to her granddaddy? If he spots any heresy, you have my blessing to enlighten this one.”

She’d leave the decision up to them, anyway. It wasn’t her business, these poor sods were doomed either way given the circumstances. While the flame priestess and the bandit talked out their differences - and Orcimedes was taming his new found friend - Serena offered an ear to Raven as she shared her thoughts on the immediate future. And the potential issues that could emerge.

“Maybe the dwarf wants another pet?” A shrug, nonchalant. Serena dared a glance at the Orc, judging perhaps. Sizing him up. He was a brutish force, sure, freakish big and freakish strong. Could be useful if given proper direction. “Plus, who’s going to tell him no? Arc en Lume’s guard?” Ever so skeptical, a single brow raised before she delved back into her usual cocky grin and laugh. “We should keep him.” She decided.

The visible eyebrow on Iz’Hana’s face skyrocketed, his mouth opening to reply with a firm negative to the drow before him.
He did not know her name! Nor her motives! He knew… Nothing, almost, about her!

But the look in her eyes. The panic. Desperation.

A moment of uncomfortable thinking and silence later, with the roaring thrumming and drumming of his heart in his ears to his fingertips; he sighed an answer, smiling brightly at the woman before him. “Usstan shlu'ta naut telanth nau. Ravv orn'la Usstan daewl ulu. Usstan nym'uer dos. Usstan zhal xun nindol.”

His face scrunched up with a grunt, nose wrinkled into an ugly expression. “Naut natha y'haerr d'rothe ehmtua's nayhako.”
His words snarled, the growl underlied them a belly deep thing. His gaze slipped past her, the unnamed woman, and out to the hall beyond their shared cell.

She had mentioned a map, and that the dwarf would be gaining funding from connections in the city. Interesting.

She promised him treasure. A snort leapt from Iz’Hana. “Xun naut yaith uns'aa whol nindol. Usstan tlun naut biu velg'larn, jhal Usstan tlun yor'in. Ol orn tlu nau endar dal tah'entil natha fuer'yon.”

In the wake of the battle, Ashera took in the surroundings. The Red Hatchets were utterly crushed. Their leader promptly surrendered and confessed the reason behind his actions. The motley crew had won the day without question, but the victory seemed to ring hollow for the elf. Had the negotiations not been scuppered, they might have been able to solve this with a lot less bloodshed.

“We are not taking this... 'hundur' thing with us,” she shot down Serena's suggestion with an admonishing look. “We've broken the Red Hatchets in body and in spirit. Stealing from them would be rubbing salt in their wounds. Would you really be so willing to throw your decency aside?”

Ashera noticed Esther waving the two of them over for a talk. It very quickly became clear what for; their latest tag-along was sure to cause trouble if left to his own devices. A concern that the elf wholeheartedly shared.

“Back home, my tutors had nothing good to say about orcs,” Ashera observed. She glanced back at Orcimedes, still wrestling with Georgina. “Seeing one for myself, I can understand why. If we cannot leave him with the Sacred Flame for them to deal with as they see fit, perhaps Hilgur would appreciate having some expendable muscle on the journey ahead?”

Esther gave off a smile, albeit reluctant, smile. The three were all of the same mind, but unfortunately not on the same reasoning. Between Serena's coy idea of a 'pet' and Ashera's outright disapproval of the orc, the alchemist felt like the middle ground of the two.

"Now, now," she responded quietly, "'keep' is a strong word. And quite frankly the sewer humidity got to your head if you think we can actually control someone like-" She turned her head and immediately regretted it as Orcimedes continued to treat the dire rat like an adorable animal. "...Him." She looked back at Serena and Ashera. "Now orcs don't get much praise in Stormhold either, besides the boisterous knights who consider them worthy warriors. But I certainly don't mind inviting him along to avoid a potential accident up above."

She checked over at a couple bodies Orcimedes had easily cast aside. He crushed them as if they were naught but ants. What would he had thought about the Sacred Flame that got in his way? Hills to stomp over? His capacity to recognize life, or to respect it, seemed to come and go as fast as a blink.

"Besides," she continued to Ashera and Serena; Esther's smile tilted to a playfully cruel smirk. "I want to see the look on Hilgur's face when he sees who we met." Easing her smile, Esther looked back to the occupied Orcimedes. "...Now to convince him," she whispered. It took only that brief moment that she realized what she was doing; she had to genuinely get his interest in the expedition without overtly manipulating him, lest he consider crushing her with... anything. Why did she think this was a good idea?

...Perhaps because no one had a better one.

The alchemist put her hands to her hips, covered by her moist leather armor, while she walked up to Orcimedes. "Oooo-kay. tamed her yet?" She asked the orc with a half-cautious, half-curious tone. She wondered to ask why he found this Georgina adorable... before common sense reigned her mind in. "You certainly leaped at the chance. But where are you even going to take her?" It was bad enough that Orcimedes could walk into any city; was worse to imagine he'd do so with a crazed rat creature tagged or tugged along. Did he actually even think this through?

Anaïs raised her hands up by her head with long, sweeping loops of her elbows, which she kept bent at ninety degree angles. Her eye jumped up and down the length of the guard quicker than he could catch it, assessing the sum of him. A skittish, impatient sort, but dim, she surmised. And just the one, to boot. Not what she'd expect for an agent of a corrupt leader covering loose ends. So the Order hadn't yet figured out who they'd taken into custody. Hm.

"I'm a historian," she answered, swirling her left hand around the golden cross on the right shoulder of her robe, "from Sainte Pucelle Memorial Archive, an affiliated branch of the Luminelle Library at the Royal Beaucourt University. I came to retrieve a record we believe was stolen during Mr. Black-Mane - the dwarf's - previous visit."

"Alas, I've not had much luck," she sighed, gesturing to the disorganized pile on the desk.

"Tame? Hmm, no," he grunted rummaging noisily in his pouch for something. He'd been much too preoccupied with the creature to listen to the conversation before Esther approached him... or at least if he heard he wasn't saying anything about it. Sometimes it was hard to tell with him.

"A creature like this... there is no 'tame.' You are either food, or not food. Feared, or respected," He explained. "Like the 'cat' that one of the lads 'rescued' from a cave back at 'Chimera's Nest.' Do you know why they called our stronghold 'Chimera's Nest?'" He asked with a grin as he produced a large, unpleasantly fragrant strip of some kind of unidentified dried meat.

"Because that cat grew into a mighty fine specimen of Chimera and turned one of the stronghold peaks into a nest. We sieged it for weeks but the stubborn thing would just not die or leave. Finally we gave up, picked up the whole warcamp and moved it to the adjacent peak. Next weekend, I was out on the wall, in the dimmest, coldest morning of the winter enjoying a hot cup of Djansam when who should arrive... Aslak," he chuckled. "That Chimera chased him all the way to the base of the mountain," he said, with a great big smile at the memory.

Those were the days...

"Anyway, I fear your authorities will put her down after you take the owner in for his transgressions. So... I will release her in a safe location. If she respects me as 'not food' she may choose to accompany me for a time," he explained, looking up at the rest of the group for one moment and then leaning down towards Esther, whispering "quietly."

"I fear the Elf might always be 'food.' I hear Elf flesh is very succulent," he nodded to her sagely with a knowing look, dangling the "treat" over Georgina's head.

The alchemist, unprepared for the orc's words, merely gave a raise of her brow and a curl of her lips in response. So he... really didn't think this through at all. There's an odd short-sightedness under his wisdom, presuming it was actually wisdom. His own grins, genuine or not, gave Esther the uncomfortable feeling of wanting to get out of here right now.

She swallowed some still saliva under her mask. C'mon Esther, out with it. It would be worth it.

"Well I doubt she and her will have to put up with each other," she attempted to encourage against violence; ideally, it would be best to just let the creature be and then pray it didn't ransack whole towns on the surface. "But I'm quite impressed by how you... survived." She didn't exactly have a better way to put it when someone charged head-first and took blades, arrows and teeth on all sides. "Do you have any plan on where you'll head next?" Or course he didn't, as far as Esther knew. "Some of us are going to be on an expedition once we're done in the city, if you'd like to come along." Her tone was a little shaky; her voice less-than-comfortable. Should she have told him about Gala-Dor? Here? In front of Lio and Maria? Esther would've sounded mad; then again, Orcimedes didn't seem like the picture of sanity. Maybe he could've believed such a story?

She paused, letting the sewer air stink over for a long minute, then she tried lightening up by kindly challenging his history again. "Oh, and hang on. You met Aslak there as well? Stormhold only talks about his meeting at the pass and the siege." She chuckled quietly. "Don't actually tell me the two of you had some silly, decades-long rivalry." She should've reminded herself that Orcimedes wouldn't be the most accurate source of information about the war. But playfully poking at what he knew, or what he think he knew, would produce an interesting glimpse into the orc's mind.

"Plans? No. I do not plan," he said sagely. "I go with the wind, as I'm guided. Oft alone, as it has been since... then," he said, trailing off and staring past her vacantly for an uncomfortably long minute, seeming to gloss over the part about the expedition.

"Wh-what? Silly??" He blustered for a moment. "I'll have you know he still considers me his greatest foe! Why, last time I saw him he said to me he says... 'Orcimedes! It pains me to tell you that my deeds may forever be outweighed by your bullshit! And for that I'll always hate you,'" he exclaimed grandiosely in a poor imitation of Aslak's voice.

"Such a beautiful and modest compliment. He'll always be my rival, so long as I draw breath! I'll quest... for the perfect compliment to pay him back. He'll never see that coming. Hmm! Yes!"

She just blinked at him, several times, before she finally opened her mouth. "Good luck with that," in the most forcibly genuine tone she could say about his search for the... perfect... insult...

In hindsight, that was something Aslak would say. But greatest foe? Even for an orc warlord, that was a steep podium to top.

She then walked back to Ashera and Serena and shook her head with her more usual and sarcastic voice. "Well, I tried. Let's hope 'the wind' doesn't guide him to the path of most resistance."

Something in her head said to wrap this whole thing up and get out of Arc en Lume as soon as possible...

As their voices echoed nonchalantly through the chasm, Maria offered a quiet prayer to the fallen. Just some junkies with no future, banging sticks together like animals. That was probably what they thought. But a life -- human or otherwise -- was so much more than that. A complex web of dreams, decisions, and little quirks that were unique and dear to each person. She gently shut the lids of a younger hatchet with her gloved fingertips, her gaze traveling down his face to his collar. Around his neck was a crude string necklace fashioned out of mismatched seashells. It was small, likely just barely enough to fit over his head. His jerkin, faintly decorated by numerous stitches painstakingly sewn and patched multiple times over by careful hands.

This man had a story, and it ended today. It didn't have to. Slowly, the priestess rose to her feet and watched the discussion unfold with superficial interest.

"Don't play coy, orc. You've got a brain like everyone else, I think you can piece together the results of your careless behavior." She gestured with her mace to the various bloody corpses strewn across the floor. "In any case..." Maria rolled the head of her weapon across her palm, back and forth as her eyes swept the chamber and her legs guided her around the edge of the pit. "Perhaps we could all stand to be more compassionate toward our fellow man, as we stand and... casually converse amongst their bodies as though they were little more than wild dogs."

Maria stopped square before the bandit leader, nodding at his words.

"The bloodshed that took place here today is a disgrace, and I take full responsibility. I pray it is not too late for you and your men to begin life anew, once this is over." She glanced towards Orcimedes once more.

"Well. Anyway. Accidents happen. But, I'd like to have your word -- presuming you value it -- that you won't cause any more problems as long as I have you within my sight. Can we get a little..." Maria bumped her fists together a few times. "...man-to-man agreement here? Man-to-woman. Whatever."

Georgina’s struggling halted. Her nose twitched, catching a familiar scent. Light, with the fragrance of exotic spices. Her pink tail whipped left and right, her red eyes were round and glossy, and she leapt up to snatch Orcimedes’ treat. “Roooooo…!” She bent low and rapidly shook her head, tearing into the jerky with a maw full of knife-like teeth.

The Bandit Leader looked up at Maria. The due she gave at the dead did not escape his notice… and neither did her mercy. She took his breath away, and he collapsed to his knees and palms, his head bowed low as he proclaimed, “P-Praise be to you and the Sacred Flame, my fair lady!”

He spent a moment there and offered his own silent prayer. Still, Esther’s request did not go unnoticed. The Bandit Leader stood to his feet, turned towards the raven, and pressed a fist against his chest with a nod. “Yes... Follow me.”

A firm hand clenched around his ankle and fixed him in place. He looked down to see a huge phantom of a man that had dragged himself across the sewer floor. “If she’s so much as missing a pinkie finger I will throw up all my blood on you,” Lio threatened, blood bubbling up over his lips, “Then I’ll take your head, grind your face in it, and if you’re so lucky that your skull doesn’t crack under my boot, you can fucking drown, you rancid, corpse breathed molerat.” The Bandit Leader froze in place. It was hard to discern his expression behind that bucket on his head, but Lio didn’t need to look to taste his fear. “Y..yes, that’s…” The Bandit Leader whipped away and struggled to find the right word. “...Motivating.”

The Bandit Leader led the way. Lio tried to flag down somebody to help him up, but he had no such luck and was stuck staggering after them thirty feet behind around the chasm, towards an iron door at the end of this long journey. It was unlike any other door they’d seen here, round and nine foot tall, forged from steel that had not rusted, even after so long at the dregs at the bottom of Arc-en-Lume. A massive wheel protruded from the centre of the door, not unlike those of a ship’s. The Bandit Leader slowed to a stop, grabbed the wheel, and began turning.

“Hrrkh!”

Metal grinded and ratcheted as he tugged at the wheel. Every inch drew the strength from his body. Finally, there was a booming thud, and the Bandit Leader motioned everybody to step back. The door dragged against the floor. A deep, grating noise followed its motions, it slowly swung open, and revealed...

A dark, wide room. The walls, floors, and ceiling were a grey, smooth colour, made of broad stone tiles wider and taller than the bricks they’d seen throughout the sewer. There were crates, barrels, and an assortment of junk strewn about the vault, but what stood out amongst the rest were the cages. Massive, rusted boxes of iron, scattered all around, filled with bodies upon bodies - some dressed in the blood-stained whites of the Sacred Flame, but most wore the crude leather and spiked iron of the Red Hatchets. Even within the dark, they could tell, the bodies were long cold.

Cough.

...Most of them, anyway.

At one end of the room, a silhouette stirred. The Bandit Leader stepped back. The group moved closer, and the shadow was brought into their light. Wavy black locks. A vermilion coat. Giant, puffed-up orange sleeves, adorned by strips of teal. Mud and cuts stained her dress, but its rich colours shined amidst the grime. She sat there, cross-legged, her wrists bound together in irons. Her almond-shaped eyes perused them. A smile graced her lips.

“Well, well, well! You don’t look raggedy enough to be Hatchets,” she remarked. “And none of you bear the cloth, save for…” Her gaze darted over to Maria, and she raised one brow curiously. “Hmm… white dress, freshly-burnt ash, and that ever-present air of lethargy…” The young woman scooted closer. Her face lit up. “Sister Maria, it is you! Darling, it’s been ages!”

It was difficult for Maria to forget her - Hortensia Hecate Halifax, granddaughter of Arc-en-Lume’s High Paladin. Always getting into trouble, even when Maria was an apprentice, and Hortensia, a teenager. Some things never changed. “Pardon me. It’s a right mess I’m caught up in.“ She shifted and tucked her chin onto her shoulder as her smile curled into a sheepish grin. “At least this time I’m not stuffing bugs into anyone’s breeches!”

Hortensia’s attention turned towards another, who had just stumbled into the room. Tall, handsomely built, and covered from head to toe in sewer dregs. Even with all that filth, Hortensia recognised him right away. She brought her hands to her nose and furrowed her brows. “O-oh! Lio, darling, that’s... not a good look for you.” The noblewoman waved away in a futile attempt to ward the stench. “Might I recommend a bath? Or several. Probably a massage, as well.”

Lio looked less than impressed. He let out the strained laugh of a man barely disguising his displeasure as he squatted in front of her. His dazzling grin, the only thing clean on him, dropped. “On the contrary, Horty, this cage is a great fit on you. Slimming. Maybe we should keep you in for another day or two.”

Hortensia’s hands crossed over her stomach, and her brows knit together. “Excuse you! Any slimmer and I won’t be much fun to hug!” The noblewoman turned away with a huff. “And then you’ll be in trouble with our mutual friend.” The tiniest hint of a grin remained on the corner of her mouth. Lio reached through the bars, pinched her nose between the knuckles of his middle and index finger, and that smile vanished.

“You’ve never had much fun hugging each other anyway. Don’t just say ‘take a bath’ to the person who crawled through a sewer to save you from your mistakes.” He glanced behind him at the party. He hadn’t done much of the actual saving part. He released her nose and wiped the grime from his fingers onto his singlet as an afterthought. “Well, that's why I'm here, but the master told me to make it explicit that he only gave me permission to come down here if I made sure his investment came back.” Lio held out a hand, palm up. “Do you still have the ring?”

Hortensia rubbed her own nose with a wince. The question came, and she sat up in attention. Slowly, she turned her gaze across the room, towards the hulking form of Orcimedes, and stopped. “Weeeeelllll…”

Lio looked over his shoulder at the party, big, green and slobbering especially, took in a suffering breath, and smiled.

“... Who has it?”

---

The guard’s eyes followed Anaïs’ hand, towards her scholar’s cross, and considered her words. After a moment, his posture relaxed, and he stayed his blade. “Stolen, you say?” He inquired, then stepped closer. “Then this is a matter of the law, and you should have filed a report.” The guard folded his arms, not taking his eyes off of Anaïs. “The Order of the Sacred Flame will take it from here. Please, turn out your pockets, and once I’m certain you haven’t taken or tampered with the evidence, you may go on your way.”

---

A thin, pretty smile crossed the drow’s face at her newly acquired ally’s words. She slunk back, her body still arched like a big cat ready to pounce, even as she backed off.

“Ajak, do'suul d'Arc en Lume,” she insisted in a whisper that tickled the back of his neck, despite her distance, “Tarthe dal l'Sacred Flame. Ol wo naut tlu verve hwuen dos kyorl l'anulo nin.”

And she settled back into her own shadowy corner, and went still, her sky-blue eyes turned up to the ceiling. Waiting.

"Ooh, Hortensia! Look what I found! Hmm!" Said, Orcimedes, gesturing excitedly to Georgina as he pushed his way towards the front of the group. He rumpled the fur around her scruff vigorously with a huge, vacant grin on his face. "We're gonna keep her, right? ...Right?" Orcimedes flicked his amber eyes between Hortensia and the party during the uncomfortably long silence as his grin faded, tracing their gazes back to him.

"Wh-... why is everyone looking at me like that?"

Esther's ears quickly grew tired of the day as she had to sit through the grinding and reeling of opening metal doors. Whether by the clustered space of the sewers, or her own mind slowly giving way to hallucinating sounds, or both, every sound railed on her ears more harshly than usual. It was rather agonizing, even compared to the horrendous sounds of war by the frontlines and sidelines. She had to thank everything that she never had to fight in such spaces until today; and she had to curse Hilgur for sending her, Ashera and Serana down here even if it was for a good cause.

A cause, in fact, that was upheld moments later.

"Ugh, this is their idea of a morgue?" The alchemist quipped in disgust. She could smell the decaying bodies, the overwhelming rust, and the stench of blood through her wilting peppermint mask. Standing in this room for mere minutes was like torture; the deathly detritus would overwhelm anyone's senses in a hurry. It was something else that Hortensia had likely been stuck here for hours at minimum and could still speak with any sort of jest and self-image afterward. "Glad you're alive and... mostly well, Ms. Hortensia. We're here to help you out and back to something resembling a proper life." The Stormhold woman's voice barely hid her wit behind the heavy accent.

"And while we're due for a proper introduction, Sister Maria," She gently nudged the paladin's arm with a coy look behind her mask, "I'm afraid the dead and the detritus are not the place to talk with mead and food in hand." Ah, the classic, Stormholdan way of talking to others: food and drink at a quiet pub; the dwarves certainly approved, minus the lack of rowdiness. Esther certainly had fond memories of that tradition. "We know a way back to the surface once your business is settled with the ring."

She paused. Silently, she asked herself who they were looking at. She turned around and saw Orcimedes.

...No, he couldn't possibly have been foolish enough to-

"Erm," she regretted asking the orc, "you wouldn't have ingested anything... unusual, recently?"

"Wh-what?" He blustered for a few moments, taking a step back and shrinking behind Georgina. "You're gonna have to be more specific, Orcish dietary standards and all," he replied evasively.

"We would have, really," Anaïs replied with an apologetic smile, flipping her bag off her shoulder. "But the Archive really prefers to keep such matters quiet if we can. Saving face, and all that, you know? And since you lot took the culprit into custody the same day we noticed it was missing, well."

She flipped open the lid of her bag, pulling out contents so the guard could see before stuffing them back in. A bundle of rope, a box of quills, three crystal vials of ink, thirty or more tightly rolled pieces of blank parchment and half a dozen of vellum. The small journal in which she'd been recording "Peasant's Tales". "Will that do for you?" she asked. "I'm afraid that's about all the storage space I have." She lifted up the front of her robe in demonstration, showing off the lack of pockets on her trousers.

The guard eyed her for a moment, and made mental notes of every item she showed. Nothing out of ordinary for a scholar. With a satisfied nod, he stepped aside, and gestured to the door.

"Very well, then. On your way, Miss. Thank you."

Hortensia's cheeks perked up with her smile, and she nodded in response to Esther's introduction. "Charmed."

Her nose crinkled reflexively at the sight of mangy, matted Georgina, nibbling at the dried meat she held in her paws. Her cheeks puffed, and her big, glossy eyes twinkled to reflect the dim light. The wolf-rat seemed content to keep to herself, not moving away even as Orcimedes retreated behind her.

Hortensia rolled her eyes and let out an exaggerated sigh as she leaned against the wall of her dungeon. "The big lummox ate the thing!" Her nose crinkled. "Honestly! It was drowning in sewer muck." The noble squinted at him from the corner of her eyes and pouted. "You weren't kidding when you said you ate things that would make a goat puke…" Lio's eyes went wide and black, the way a drugged up someone's do when it dawns on him he will literally have to dig through shit after all.

"I'm going to have crap under my nails for weeks," he said, an echo of the man he once was.

She turned to the others. "Ah, I bumped into Big Orcy here when I went down to the sewers. He was a fantastic meat shie- I mean, company." Red rose to her cheeks as she cleared her throat. "But, ah... the Red Hatchets got the drop on me, and we were separated."

Lio brought his bloodshot eyes to the ceiling and lifted himself from the wall. He gestured from the Bandit Lord to Hortensia's cage with a short whistle and a snap of his fingers, to which he hung his head and obeyed, having accepted his defeat. The cage unlocked with an echoing click and Lio took Hortensia's hand to help her out as if she were stepping out of a carriage.

"So the Master's waiting for me to take you back, after which I really need a healer, and the Lady Solaster's gonna need to take you back to Church. I'll take the flogging for the ring. The rest of you…" Lio looked over the party that had helped him, and his eyes narrowed, the question of how they knew about the top-secret rescue mission in the first place almost surfacing on his tongue. Instead he shot fingers at each of them. "Bath? Bath? Bath? Just so you know, none of you are getting into the cathedral until you're clean -" He lurched, his face turning green. He leaned on Hortensia and managed to swallow it down before continuing in a rasp, "... in every way."

Gods, he really was foolish enough to eat the damn ring!

Esther did her best to not look away and groan as loudly as she could. Best she could manage was a side glance, squinted eyes and an exaggerated frown that hid behind her mask. THIS was the mighty orc warlord, Orcimedes? Even if true, no orc would've willingly followed someone this short-sighted, right?

A pause.

Actually, he was quite huge for an orc, and with might and bulk to match. He could probably be an orc clan of his own. Certainly, if anything, he'd lead simply based on pure strength. But even... then, did he actually express this sort of mindlessness as a warlord? Esther almost wanted to find out, had she, and supposedly him, not have more important matters to attend to.

She couldn't help but make a small chuckle when Hortensia 'corrected' her words. "I didn't know you two got along," Esther responded. "Glad you, uh, were in good company." She looked back at the orc; beneath the mask and the helmet, her eyes were relaxed and with contempt in equal measure; her voice, however, was jesting and relaxed. "I don't suppose you haven't ejected the ring yet?" Gods, why did she have to say that with a straight face? "Or could you cough it up? Not... here, with us. Think we've all had enough grime for one day."

She fiddled around with her belt and pulled out a couple small vials of varying green, light liquids. "This won't suffice for your past few days but it'll help with any pains from being imprisoned," she mentioned courteously, offering Hortensia these healing vials. "Stormhold's finest consumable medicine; It'll briefly dim your sense of pain and ease any bleeding." She was a bit proud to admit it. The healthy mix of snowberry, grinded petal herbs, and distilled freshwater made for one of the most resource-effective alchemical recipes; you could find any of them with ease in Stormhold. Hopefully she wouldn't have trouble finding more of those in Beaucourt...

"You're just not gonna let that go, are you?" He asked, leaning against Georgina and rolling his eyes. "You're the one who asked for help when we found that damnable guard wearing it. How was I supposed to know his whole finger would come loose?" He retorted with an accusatory huff.

"And didn't we meet on the surface some three days past? Aye, outside one of the taverns on the outskirts. I told you I was on a quest to purge a den of lesser tikadz and you begged to accompany me like an unblooded whelp thirsting for adventure. It was very endearing," he chuckled, and then turned to address Esther.

"Nay, little one. But I should be able to retrieve it for you in the morning when the sun is about this far," He explained, holding both his palms out stacked atop one another. "I'm very regular."

While hidden under her mask, Esther attempted to nod with a small smile; instead, she jerked her head up and down and strained her mouth wide across at Orcimedes'... assurance.

"Well... Thanks. it's certainly the easiest way to do it," she responds, half-relieved and half-resigned to his method. What other plan could she offer that wasn't messier? "May I might suggest doing that, ah, alone, and cleaned in water, before returning it?"

She paused; should she have asked that? Orcimedes should've known all that as common sense. Should.

...Perhaps she really should have studied orc culture and history instead of advanced alchemy.