Cri 22, 229: Crosswynds Exchange

Crosswynds Exchange
Summary: A lull in the action allows for a prisoner exchange between the Mobrin and Laniveeri forces.
OOC Date: 24/04/2014
Related: The First Battle of Crosswynds
Players:
Kierne Shepard Kadlin Kaylee Valarius Daimhin Eliylw 
North-South Road
It's Crosswynds, dudes.
Cri 22, 229

Crosswynds; the stand of ancient ruins, which now through two countries divide and none yet seem to own, left to the wilderness to reclaim as no town could survive this close to the borders. It might have yet been a place for thugs, criminals, pirates, those wishing to run from their lives or whatever might be chasing them. Though it has been a source of struggle in long generations back, a place of ghosts, eerie enough that even those who pray faithfully to Inouv hesitate to claim as their own. Recently, it has become the stage for one of the largest battles to have taken place for many years.

The fortification that once stood as a beacon of the family that had held these lands is left in a heaps of broken walls, rounded towers, and numerous piles of rubble. Thick shrub and long twisted plants have kept other parts of the foundation intact, while whatever town had been sprawled out from the fortification has long since been wiped off the map. This is now the location of what remains of the Mobrin army, a combination of Lakeshire men with Sutherland, and a vast array of other provinces, such as Weston and perhaps as far down as Greenshire. Either way, what remains is shy of five thousand men, with all the casualities taken in the first few days - the first day for sure.

Crosswynds remains a marker of the division between North and South, of Laniveer and Mobrin, but also of East and West, of Lakeshire and Weston. The armies of the Laniveer having been pushed back toward the north and on their own borders they remain, gathered but not to the strength of 5000 they began with. With all their casualties and a mysterious disappearance of others, they stand little more than three thousand strong. Yet, their commanders still insist on fighting on.

Fortunately, for whatever reason, the days fighting has ceased. Men on both fronts are hunkered down, waiting for someone to make the next move… while healers, tend to do the best they can for those who can still be saved, while those of the Faith, say rituals over the fallen, to send them on their way.

The travels to Crosswynds has taken Eliylw longer than the day she expected; with the fighting having gotten under war the trip for her and her escorts took quite a bit longer, easily three times what they hoped for, and then she had difficulties proving that she is not merely a camp follower looking for a temporary position as cook or porter. It was aggrovating, to say the least, but after showing Baroness Wenna's letter granting her permission to act as healer for the Mobrin men to the one in charge she was allowed entry to where their forces are.

The red-headed healer picks her way around warriors and others present, her satchel full of herbs, medicines, bandages and other tools of her trade slung over her shoulder. While she tries very hard to keep calm there's a widening of her eyes, making her look almost like a spooked mare.

Valarius is kneeling beside one of the soldiers that is apparently losing his way, for there is naught that can be done with the guts that spew from his belly, but hold the pitiful creature and offer final words for his soul, confessing the man to his death. Once the said soldier has passed from the mortal realm, Val sits back on his calves, hands bloodied, face showing streaks of blood and bandaged himself, wiping at his eyes with the back of his sleeves. His face turning toward the rows of men being brought to the… unofficial 'infirmary' … nothing but a string of men lined up with a makeshift tent thrown over a few cots erected, for those who may have a chance to be kept from the elements.

There's not much in the way of cleanliness to be found out here on the front, but after today's light skirmishing, once it's pretty clear there will be no more sallies before nightfall, Kierne repaired to a quiet spot where he could at least guzzle down a large qualtity of water and use the remainder to wash his face and neck and pour a little through his hair, which, having already been drenched in sweat, is now at least moderately clean as well as soaking wet. That done, he goes to prowl for some rations. His stomach is catching wise to his scheme of trying to guzzle water and count that as full. While thus prowling he spots the party on the approach and diverts himself to go see who it is. "Hey, you OK?" he asks her. "C'mon, I'll show you the grounds we're using for hospital," he offers her, and even offers her an arm, gentlemanly-like, to help guide her through their lines and to where V is hard at work.

Eliylw looks at Kierne, someone she knows only very vaguely from when he was hurt and spent time recovering in the infirmary. Seeing him up has her smiling although it's faint and does well to show her weariness. "Thank you." Her arm is slipped through his as she looks around, the sight of those injured or dying causing her to frown. "How many have we lost," she asks, her voice lowered to a whisper.

And in the other camp….One healer was not healing but more in need of healing, healing that would likely not come for some time. Perhaps never. Taken within the first round of battle, Daimhin was yet within the hands of the Laniveer. Kept prisoner personally by the Hound Master that had dragged her from the field, a female within enemy hands….unspeakable horrors occured. Another day was passing, bruises upon bruises existed along with a busted lip, one eye swollen shut, yet the threats of the Hound Master to throw her to his dogs had yet not come about. Thoughts of escape difficult with the beasts near, they would have none of it. Perhaps in a few days she might just throw herself to them, but..those teeth and the claws! She could simply pray that brutal Hound Master had fallen in what skirmishes had occured this day.

Kierne lowers his head, returning to Eliylw the number such as he was last apprised— though it may, of course, have gone up since then. Then, lifting his chin and raising up his voice, "V," he calls, "Reinforcements," he explains simply, then, squinting at the sky, "We've still got some daylight left. I'm going to see whether we can arrange that trade." His voice is flat, without much of that lively spirit it so often does. As if he's running on rationed energy, as well. He'll hand off the one healer to the other so that she can get familiarized with what's going on.

Valarius lifts his head from the body of the man who was lost them all, turning his gaze toward Kierne, then over at Eliylw as she's labelled as a reinforcement. A relief!! He climbs to his feet and tries to wipe his hands off the best he can on some part of him that's clean, yet that's hardly the case, there is little that is not covered in blood. He does smile quietly, "It's good to see some help has come. Though you must stay back if the fighting begins again. They are targetting us, as healers and priests." He bows his head a bit, "I'm Priest Valarius Micha. Come, there is not much here, as the front moves, but we have done what we could with the supplies we had." He waves toward the makeshift infirmary.

She looks exuasted, the Priestess of Light who has been assisting with a hand to hold and soft words spoken to those who are destined to pass on out of the mortal world. She kneels beside a young soldier, many would consider him to be have never seen fighting before this day, "You fought well. Nar is pleased in your skills young warrior." The young man turns his eyes to her, his breathing labored and softly smiles, his eyes then closing and his chest ceasing to rise. There is a lowering of her head and she reaches to rest his sword atop his chest; the hilt closest to his chin. She then unwras the white linen on her left hand, revaling a still fresh cut. Her index finger then runs along the cut, blood now upon its tip. Slowly the finger makes an X on his forehead; the symbol of the crossed-swords of Nar, "Go to Paradise dear soldier of Nar."

The body of the one just now gone is looked at and Eliylw feels tears start to rise to her eyes, her hold on her emotions frayed. "What will be done with the bodies," she asks, curious as to if they're taking steps to try and reduce the diseases that corpses can sometimes cause. It's morbid and she loathes having to pose such a query but it is necessary. "Are they being buried… burned?" Her eyes lift to Val's as she adds, "I am Mistress Eliylw Cadwalader, one of the healers who work for the royal family of Mobrin." As for the rest of what he had said, Eli simply nods to convey her understanding.

Valarius looks toward the corpses, "Most will be put to a pyre. Those of Lakeshire have different traditions however, and we cart those men down south, as requested by their field commanders." Despite his efforts, he looks rather drained and exhausted, yet, still standing with his hands folded and his lips quirked in a comforting expression. "We only burn those who are seen as fit to earn their place in paradise, good lady," as the traditions and death rites of Mobrin declare, "Those who showed no honour on the field may be laid to rest in the ground, but it is still a better option to put them to pyre, for… there are quite a few and no men to spare to dig graves." His eyes blink a few times at the mention of the royal family, a curious expression, before he turns to regard the work of a fellow priestess.

Kierne withdraws a while to go check on the status of his own prisoner, kept barricaded and bound in a basement nook of the crumbling ruins. On finding Athryl still in good repair… physically, if not exactly mentally… he takes up a scrap of the man's shirt and returns to the light, trailing across the front to his Lord Knight's camp and the troops who had marched from the sea. There he takes up a pen and inscribes the rent cloth with the proposition of a prisoner exchange scrawled in black ink across the cream of the fabric and the mottled red of the blood.

Soon enough, from the far east of the Mobrin battle line an arrow flings itself heavenward, trailing a flapping tail of fabric behind it, a lofted shot, not meant to cause injury, but to catch the attention of the enemy and land close enough to the other side of the vacancy between their lines as to have them feel comfortable having a runner go out to retrieve it. And then all there's left is to wait for a reply.

Sir Shepard Kerrigan is exhausted…but he's good at not looking like it. He moves stiffly, slowly, however, careful not to aggravate the stitched and bound wound in his side. He's set up sentries and sent out patrols and generally kept track as best he can with what's been going on on the camps while he sort-of convalesces, but if he stared at the fabric walls of his tent any longer he'd go mad. So he's out among the soldiers again, offering encouraging words and generally trying to get a feel for the mood of the camp. As he draws near the red-headed healer, he hears her question, and Valarius' answer, and nods, his expression a bit sad:

"We'll try to honor the practices of their homeland as best we're able, but war is a harsh mistress. We will have to beg the Gods' forgiveness if not all who deserve more are granted it." He glances in the direction where he knows bodies are being kept, well away from the main camp to try to stave off disease and scavengers moving through the camp. Not that there aren't guards on the bodies, but even so… "Not the first time I've had to do this, and even if I'd hoped I'd seen the last of it, I knew it unlikely so long as Laniveer stands."

Kadlin slowly rises, wrapping her hand once more. Her steps take her to Valarius and she nods slowly to him, "It never gets easier. They all have names and a mother." She finds another soldier laying upon his back with his head propped up by a small blanket and kneels beside him, not far from Valarius and Eliylw, "Take my hand and look to my eyes." Her voice is soft as she murmurs words to him that are barely audible by anyone else.

Shepard is given a bit of consideration as if Valarius' words but it does nothing to really make Eliylw feel less concerned. "As long as the bodies are not allowed to cause illness it is fine." Her head bows and she sighs, her shoulders slouching as if in defeat. The situation they're in is dire and that's made all the more obvious by how horrible the condisitons are in. "Who has been injured and is in most need of my ministrations?"

Valarius turns his gaze toward Shepard, nodding to the man, assuming somewhere along the line, Val had his hands on Shepard as there were only so many healers who had remained after the initial conflict. Still, he does agree, "If we must put them to the pyre, we try to keep those men of regions together, but, this is war… sometimes it doesn't go as planned. But we try to note whose being put to the pyre, their description, name if we know it, rank, and any other information is documented…" probably a gesture to one of the many acolytes running around with a pen and parchment. "We try to document what we can when they come to us, prior to them passing…" he notes the line of men who are considered too far gone to help, then the others, a group, "Those are the worst cases and may yet have a chance, if we can get them to better help.." and a place not so dirty, but he doesn't say that. He considers Kadlin again, "You are quite right, it is never easy to know we must speak over a boy just old enough to hold a sword, or a man who could have an entire family waiting for him." He looks gently at Eliylw, "Is this your first time afield?"

"There has to be a better way." Shepard notes, more to himself than directly to any of those assembled. He looks thoughtful, but no answers are yet coming to him. More troubling is the Laniveer tactic of trying to abduct their healers in the midst of battle. He'd assign escorts, but then they're taking men from the front lines. It'd be a lot easier to try to concentrate on these matters were it not for the ache from his most serious wound. A new war needs new ways of fighting war. Laniveer has demonstrated that far too well.

Kadlin never lets go of the soldiers hand, seeming like so many others who are attending to the fallen to not care about the filth that she is kneeling in despite her white robes, "When all this is Nathaniel…I shall find her back in Stormhaven for you and tell her such." Who truly knows if the Priestess will e able to follow through on her words, but any that know her wouldknow that she would certainly try." The man smiles once more, and then his hand slowly slips from hers, falling to the earth. Seeing the man does not have a blade beide him, she removes her own and places it on his chest; the same X made on his forehead, "Of Blade and Blood." After the words are spoken, the blade is taken back and she slowly rises, looking to Valarius with a solemn nod, as she idly replies to Shepherds words, "Even the most respected of war's unspoken rules are often broken: It is war afterall, and losing is never an option.

It is awhile before one of the Lanniveer is curious enough to check out that arrow that was sent over with its funny little tail making it fly a bit oddly in turn. Eventually one does swagger out to get the arrow and take to reading the proposition, there is a bit of a sneer in the direction of the Maorbin camp before the man swaggers on back to take the message to someone amongst the leadership. There is talk and laughing, some consideration of the matter. Kierne is made to wait….and wait….and wait. Before an arrow comes back, a bit of parchment wrapped about it, an acceptance to consider the proposal put forth. Demands for any and all prisoners that the Morbins might have for the few they have.

Kaylee had been out on watch for some time and is just making her way on through the area heading onwards to where she last caught sight of Kierne. Her gaze drifts over the ones she pauses before she catches sight of the squire over with his horse, and a few others it seems. Her pale gaze settles on the fw with him, she pauses pondering before moving forward once more. A slight nod of her head is seen. "Afternoon." This is said with a soft tone. Her coat is settled around her left open, clothing a bit on the dirty side but then who would be clean out in a place like this? Her quiver is at her shoulder while she carries her bow within her hand.

With so many hurt there's no time to waste. Eliylw looks at Valarius and blinks once, taking notice of how he had asked her a question earlier that she forgot to answer. "Yes, this is my first time in such a situation as this," she admits but soon a man moans, drawing her attention away. Frowning, she excuses herself. Time to do what she can to help.

Shepard turns his attention to Kierne when his wave catches his eye. He tilts his head, frowning a bit, but only in thought, not in disapproval. "Very well. At least twenty men, I think. And a double-handful of rangers to watch our flanks." He glances towards the Priest and Priestess, noting, "A healer's eye and a Blessed of Nar's presence would not be unwelcome, if you choose to accompany." Inwardly, he's not keen on the thought of riding at the moment, but outwardly he gives no sign of it. "Have the prisoners gathered. I'll fetch my horse and meet you at the edge of camp." He nods to Kierne, and then moves along with his squire towards where his horse is currently tied.

A handful of Lanniveer seem the be gathered on the other side as they prepare for the agreed exchange. A few archers taking to positions, keeping watch on the matter that is to unfold. When the few riders head out, the 'prisoner' having been tossed across the saddle in front of one of them. It is a short time after they have headed out acrros the field that the Hound Master skulks out to a place at the edge of the Laniveer camp, looking none to pleased about having to give up /his/ captive. He wasn't done and now his dogs weren't going to have anything to eat later.

Valarius looks over at Shepard when asked to proceed with them, debating with a quick glance toward those settled on rows of cots and makeshift blankets for those who cannot be spared the same comfort. He nods to Shepard, "If you need it of us, then surely I will come. I do not have a horse however and would request one to be borrowed." Or he can ride double. Whatever works for the soldiers of Mobrin.

Kadlin nods to Shepherd and and makes her way towards the trade group, "I shall do so M'lord.' She then proceeds to approach each of those going: Shepard, Kaylee, and the others; extending her bandaged hand to their chests upon their heart and murmurs the words softly, "May Nar protect Thee." It is quick, it is without a lot of ceremony, but they would have seen it done before to many of the soldiers prior to battle. She then settles in beside them, content to walk at the pace determined.

Kierne tosses Shepard a salute in agreement, then looks to Lee, then back to Shepard, "Let Lee know what's up, she can cover us," he suggests, before goading his horse along the rest of the line toward the ruins where Athryl is waiting patiently for him. Or something. It's hard not to be patient when one is thoroughly bound. He lets the others figure out their riding situations, and arranges his own, on his own mount with Athrys still bound, wrists, knees and ankles, blindfolded and slung across the saddle behind him. Maybe not the most dignified way for a soldier to return to his people, but it'll have to do. When Kierne rides back from the ruins, he does so more slowly, not wanting to jostle his cargo overmuch, giving the others time to gather a force to accompany him the meanwhile.

Kaylee caught some talk that there was to be an exchange of prisoners, she looks to Kierne and nods a moment before looking to Shepard as her name is brought up so to speak. "Aye, where would ye like me?" She questions while letting her fingers slowly slide across her bow. There is a pause as she looks to Kadlin, slipping quiet as the blessing is offered and a brow lifts but that is all. A soft breath escapes her and she soon nods her head to her in her 'thanks'. Her gaze turns to Kierne as he and the Lanny scum start to move out.

Shepard indicates his young Squire, Peyton, astride his own horse, "You may ride with Peyton, Blessed Valarius." He wants the healer on a horse, so that if they need make their retreat, he'll be less likely to be captured or harmed. But he equally wants someone that can provide initial care for any wounded and traumatized they recover, and that's one thing Priests are quite good for. Once he's astride his own steed, he straps on his helmet, lifting the Visor and then moving out towards the edge of camp with about half of the suggested assembly. When Kaylee speaks to him, he gestures to indicate about half the rangers coming along, "Take these men and watch our right flank. The rest of you move left. Leave four men to our rear to provide security in case they try to cut us off." One has to be prepared for a trap even of they hope, and possibly even expect that this will not be one.

The Priest of Sheat glances up, "Peyton, a good name," he murmurs, as he glances at the squire to give a quick introduction, before the squire helps him amble astride the horse. Peyton will have to lean over to clasp arms with Valarius to help the Blessed find his footing in the stirrup before bouncing up to sit behind the squire, arms hooking there to keep his seat.

Kadlin falls in beside the horse in which Valarius sits upon, having chosen to walk. Truth be told, very few have ever seen her astride one of the beasts. The usual well put together Priestess, looks like she ust stepped out of the forge in which she spends much of her time; dirt and blood upon her white robes and soil upon her face from having wiped her brow. Without thought, her right hand crosses her body, resting casually upon the hilt of her sword.

Kierne's horse continues at a steady but unhurried walk down the line of the Mobrin front, keeping one eye on the cluster of Laniveer soldiers forming on their line across the way, another eye on the group arranging itself further along the Mobrin line. When he approaches the latter, he looks for a sign from Shepard that he's ready to set out, though his eyes catch on the priest mounting alongside Shep's squire, maybe a little worried to put the fellow in danger once more. But he won't argue against it, only nodding to V and then looking to Shep. "Ready to move out when you are." He turns his horse in a tight, brisk step formation, facing outward toward the Laniveer line. "On your call."

Shepard inclines his head to Kierne, and gives the signal for the party to move forward, keeping a slow pace to allow the prisoners to not trail too far behind. Of course they're not exactly armored or armed anymore, though they've been kept clothed, at least. They move across the intervening space between the two opposing camps for several long, tense minutes, before reaching the spot where the exchange is to take place.

With the Morbins starting to head out, the Laniveer herd their group of Morbins along. One or two are supported by their fellow captives, there was that one draped like a rag doll across the front of the saddle of the one rider. A few sneered openly, for they were trading back half the number that they woudl get back. They'd spent most of the time having the upper hand and the days of combat hadn't erased their sense of superiority.

Kierne bears the captive he took behind him on horseback, slung across the beast on his stomach— either because of is injuries or because he doesn't trust the man to be unbound. The rest are bound only by the arms and led each by a soldier. Their armour and weapons have all been confiscated, the spoils of war, but the men, at least, are being returned. Kierne's horse slows to a pregnant pause in step and then shifts back a quarter-pace to stand firm, then the squire himself, lips drawn into a firm line, dismounts and drags the bound soldier down to carry against him, waiting there by his horse until the other similarly ferried captive is readied.

Shepard comes to a halt a slight ways back from the gathering. Close enough to watch and see, far enough to make for a quick escape if need be. It galls him to think of such things, but better discretion than valor in this particular case if things get combative. Shepard himself is by and large a humble fellow, but he still recognizes the effect it would have on morale for the Deputy Marshal of Mobrin to be slain in a minor ambush during a prisoner exchange. And Ronan -did- order him not to take unnecessary risks. In any case, he gestures once more, giving permission for the exchange to continue, keeping a sharp eye out for signs of treachery, and his ears open for any warning that may come from their rangers.

Unfortunately the Laniveer aren't as kindly towards the one they have slung over the saddle. The person is dumped off and allowed to thud down against the ground causing a groan out of the semi-conscious woman. The Hound Master growls unhappily from his place back at the lines. The rider finally dismounts, a disinterested look down before he points to one of those amongst the other captives that have been herded along, devoid of weapons, a few bear wound either from the battle or from at the hands of questioning, hard to tell. "You there, come get this one before I change my mind and let the Master of Hounds have his play thing back." That sets the bedraggled man into a scurry to scoop up the woman, the scarred healer by the looks of it. The Laniveer man looking to Kierne, speaking in accented common,"Be quick about this, send our men along and ya can have these used bits and pieces." A sneer given after a glance at the woman.

Kierne's brow draws below his helm, and he gives Athryl a heft into the air, bending his knees and taking the warrior over his shoulder, who, in turn, gives a weak thrashing to be thus manhandled, crying out against the gag he wears as Kierne holds the man with one hand about the inside of his thigh. And when summoned he leaves his horse in the care of the nearest soldier by, walking across the space between himself and the man bringing their healer, then setting him on his bound feet and holding him vaguely upright for the other man to support him before he lets go. "Our plaything for his," he murmurs to the other. The implication is clear, that the Lannie soldier was put to some unseemly use himself, though whether that's plausible or not, or just a mad boast meant to terrorize the enemy or make them sorry to have treated their healer in such a way… well. Who knows? He certainly handles Athryl like he would a woman, implicitly emasculating the enemy and, by proxy, his companions.

There is a Ranger watching the show before her, Kaylee is settled upon her horse, bow resting within her hands but now arrow is pulled. The bow taps slightly against her thigh a few times as her gaze only watches the enemy line. She was there for a reason, act as backup and offer cover if the needs be, and she will put her skills to good use.

The Morbin who had scooped up Daimhin shuffles across with the others, after they are given a wave from the Laniveer keeping guard over them. He tries to carry her with some compassion, there was a busted lip, bruises about her face, clothes were torn. The murmur wipes the sneer from the one Laniveer's face and he is no giving Athryl a good look, likely no amount of protest from the bound man will help him to recover from the rumors certain to spread. That he he is getting handle like he was the young Morbin's woman would not help matters. Certainly so by the looks the Laniveers who came out are giving him. They do see about 'welcoming' those being returned to their side and seeing them escorted back to the camp to be checked over.

Kierne is still inwardly churning a little bit at the condition their healer is being returned to them in. But at least to have wiped the smirk off of that one guy's face soothes him enough not to make further comment, leaving him only to gather the battered woman gingerly into his arms and cradle her to himself as comfortingly as possible, considering the armour he's wearing, as he begins to pace slowly backward away from the enemy and toward their own line. He doesn't have the occasion to look down at her face, keenly as he's watching the enemy for any signs of treachery.

Shepard continues to watch in silence, smirking just a bit beneath his helmet as Kierne sullies the other mans masculinity with just a few well-placed words. He gestures towards Kierne, and beckons back towards the camp, "Get her back to the healer's tents with all due haste." He looks to the others being brought in and nods, "All of you will be seen by a healer, fed, and given opportunity to rest. Take no shame in anything that has transpired. If there is dishonor to be had, it is on the hands and heads of those that would inflict it." His voice is probably not loud enough for the Laniveeri to hear, but there's always the chance they might pick up on it.

The woman makes a faint whimper at being transfered about from the pain that came with it, or perhaps her mind had not yet figured out that she was saved and some other horror was to be visited upon her. But the feel of being held against armor does cause an eye to crack blearily, seeing it was a Morbin that held her caused a slight, hoarse sob. Saved from further horrors at the hands of the Master of Hounds! Some measure of relief washing through he rin that moment.

There is relief as well amongst the men that were returned, to simply be returned. Though the word of the Deputy Marshall help to raise their sprits a fraction as well. Several giving him a proper salute as they make their way back to be seen by healers or find food as needed. As for teh Laniveeri…there seems not obvious treachery about to be triggered. Though those keenly perceptive might notice some commotion at the line withdrawing, someone dressed sort of like a Morbin but obviously not running out and stoping short as he gets a dressing down. Some failed endevour perhaps.

Were Shepard a less disciplined man, he'd snort in derision. As it stands, he waits for the prisoners to be well on the way back towards the camp, before signalling for the full withdrawal back for the guards. As before they move at a leisurely pace, making sure to keep near their recovered men. Shepard does ride up and slow to a trot beside Kierne, adding, "Make sure to compare the names of the prisoners against the rosters of those we've noted as missing."

Kierne makes it back to the safety of the line, standing by his horse and then glancing down to the woman's face instinctively at the sound of the sob, looking up again and then doing a regular double-take to the woman's visage, briefly mistaking the badly scarred features for… well, another set of badly scarred features he's familiar with. After his heart's done leaping up into his throat, he takes more serious stock of her features, distinguishing new damage from old with a careful gaze, then asking the soldier to walk his horse for him, as he'll carry the healer on foot, saving having to get her back onto a horse, which could only be an unpleasant proposition right now. "Yes, sir," he replies to Shepard, the brisk, taut tones of military efficiency.

Kaylee watches quietly and closely as there side is bring brought back. Her gaze flicks slightly towards them before she takes in a soft breath before she looks back towards the other side. So far so good… Hopfullyt it will stay this way for now, nice and quiet.

The woman makes a faint whimper at being transfered about from the pain that came with it, or perhaps her mind had not yet figured out that she was saved and some other horror was to be visited upon her. But the feel of being held against armor does cause an eye to crack blearily, seeing it was a Morbin that held her caused a slight, hoarse sob. Saved from further horrors at the hands of the Master of Hounds! Some measure of relief washing through he rin that moment.

There is relief as well amongst the men that were returned, to simply be returned. Though the word of the Deputy Marshall help to raise their sprits a fraction as well. Several giving him a proper salute as they make their way back to be seen by healers or find food as needed. As for teh Laniveeri…there seems not obvious treachery about to be triggered. Though those keenly perceptive might notice some commotion at the line withdrawing, someone dressed sort of like a Morbin but obviously not running out and stoping short as he gets a dressing down. Some failed endevour perhaps.

Were Shepard a less disciplined man, he'd snort in derision. As it stands, he waits for the prisoners to be well on the way back towards the camp, before signalling for the full withdrawal back for the guards. As before they move at a leisurely pace, making sure to keep near their recovered men. Shepard does ride up and slow to a trot beside Kierne, adding, "Make sure to compare the names of the prisoners against the rosters of those we've noted as missing."

Kierne makes it back to the safety of the line, standing by his horse and then glancing down to the woman's face instinctively at the sound of the sob, looking up again and then doing a regular double-take to the woman's visage, briefly mistaking the badly scarred features for… well, another set of badly scarred features he's familiar with. After his heart's done leaping up into his throat, he takes more serious stock of her features, distinguishing new damage from old with a careful gaze, then asking the soldier to walk his horse for him, as he'll carry the healer on foot, saving having to get her back onto a horse, which could only be an unpleasant proposition right now. "Yes, sir," he replies to Shepard, the brisk, taut tones of military efficiency.

Kaylee watches quietly and closely as there side is bring brought back. Her gaze flicks slightly towards them before she takes in a soft breath before she looks back towards the other side. So far so good… Hopfullyt it will stay this way for now, nice and quiet.

The scars exist upon the left side of the woman's face, remenants from a long ago mauling. There was a reason Daimhin often wore that scarf that draped over much of them. The bruising was obviously new as well as the busted lip. There would be other injuries and bruising that the healers would discover when they looked over their returned brethren. She was simply a reminder of the risk that came in being a woman at the front and captured. Death was the preffered option really. There is a quiet,"Thank you," that will slip in time.

Shepard nods to Kierne once more, and breaks off from the group as they return to camp, heading back towards his tent, where he stiffly climbs out of the saddle, moving to head inside and return to dealing with other matters of managing this battle.

Kierne cranes his neck to one side, doing his best to hold in a welling of tears with a precipitous angling of his head and a rough sniff. "You're gonna be OK, OK?" he tells her, once he swallows to keep his voice from wavering through the words.

Kaylee will wait for the others to move away before she turns to follow. The ranger is the last in the line for what reason who knows that is just where she feels she should be it seems. Her fingers grip at her bow a few moments. Once they are back along the line her gaze rests upon the hurt woman and she is quiet for a few moments. There is a shadow of worry across her face, a look that shows she knows what the other is doing through at the moment. She has been there before, done that, and has the scars and nightmares to go along with it.

"Ok," comes the soft whisper from Daimhin as Kierne carries her along to the healers. The woman not trying to be stubborn or proud or any such thing and walk there herself, simply relaxing against him for the time it takes to get her there. Tonight she would sleep in a tent amongst her own, not….over there. It had only been days, but it had surely felt like a life time.

Kierne gives a nod to the soldier leading his horse, a grateful gesture as he hitches it to a post near a watering trough and Kierne continues on toward the hospital grounds, meeting Lee's eyes with a lachrymose cast to his glance. "OK," he keeps whispering, just sort of a soothing sound, by now, devoid of real meaning.

Kaylee watches quietly, her gaze lingering on Kierne before she sighs and turns slightly. She pulls her horse to the side and moves off heading to a spot to go about getting back to watch. Everything with Daimhin has stired up plenty of thoughts in her head, plenty of memories, and the dull ache of past wounds are felt. Her gaze lingers on the enemy line, watching them once more like a hawk.

"OK," Kierne whispers again, a breathy rush to his voice. Has he forgotten how to say anything else? There's a decided dewiness bespangling his eyelashes, at this point, and with no hand free to wipe it away it gets in the way of his vision, which swims blurrily in front of him, though he tries to blink it away, if for the sake of not tripping and falling with his rather damaged passenger. He ducks into the tent and looks about haplessly until guided to where he should lay her down, which he does with all due gentleness.

The one healer guides Kierne along to where he should settle Daimhin, aiding in seeing her set to the field cot, while the other scurries to get supplies and a wash basin. There is a faint shudder and moan of pain as she is moved again, her body hurt in imaginable ways. Yet after a breathe is drawn, brown eyes open…well the one only partially for the bruising and swelling…looking to Kierne as a murmured,"Thank you," slips again. Even if she might wish to just lay there and die at the particular moment, she is thankful to be returned to the hands of her own kinsman.

Kierne can't even meet the healers' eyes— either those who come to tend to Daimhin or those of the woman herself, though he gives her a brief nod of acknowledgement for her gratitude before he drifts back from the cotside, staying within the cot, for the time being, lifting one hand to hold his other forearm in front of him, head hanging faintly as he stands sentinel there with night falling without.

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