Kerya stayed low and close to the trunk of the tree, ensuring she wasn‘t in the orcs‘ line of sight. It had taken considerable study of their crude language to be able to make sense of their guttural grunts and snorts.
"Stronger now!" the larger orc said to the smaller ones. "This new armor will strike fear into the Militia! They will fall before the might of the Bloodskull!"
"The treaty with our Rujarkian brothers was wise, General Vhar‘Taug," one of the smaller orcs responded. "With this superior equipment, Freeport will soon be ours for the taking."
The slightest of movements in the corner of her eye caught Kerya‘s attention. She studied a small mound of dirt near a tree stump some twenty meters away. Nothing further moved. It didn‘t need to.
With quick, subtle grace, she glided silently away from the tree and clung to a low line of chaparral that she was certain would conceal her movements. As she approached the stump, she could see the outline of another figure in garb similar to her own.
"Roemer!" she hissed as she clung to the ground next to him. "What in blazes are you doing here?"
"I imagine," the assassin said in a whisper, "that I was hired for the exact same job you were. The Militia didn‘t want to risk that one of us wouldn‘t make it back from this little reconnaissance mission, so they hedged their bets."
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