Storm Watch Butte A Band of Demons Joined in and it Sounded Something Like This

The rhythmic clipping of hooves resonated through the air, heralding the approach of the pack— a trade offering should negotiations falter: a calf, whisked away from the security of its pasture, its slender ankles scabbed from relentless herding yet otherwise pristine.

A lion and a dove, traveling companions of contrasting natures, flanked each other with a camaraderie forged in a shared goal. Their every step bore the weight of fatigue, their eyes mirroring the vast, merciless stretch they had traversed.

They will set up camp swiftly and shield you from the searing heat, @Elveera. Ensure our gift remains secure.

With a nimble leap, the tawny figure ascended the rugged rock face. As Herod reached the summit, two pouches slipped from his grasp, landing beside weathered grey paws. The alligator hide draped over his silvering, blonde shoulders rustled gently as he adjusted it.

@Ransem. Hawkish golden eyes fixed upon the horizon, a clearing of the throat as the smile fell flatly from the golden face. Our poor lost lamb has been found. Within one pouch, you will discover your payment, accompanied by the flower imbued with your companion, and target's, scent. In the other, the first installment of our dear Masa's compensation. Ensure he receives it, he added, gentle, but with a knowing edge. And do attempt to avoid conflict with him, my boy. He is an ally in this endeavor.

From atop the butte the new watcher had been waiting. Watching the advancing war band with a lazy eye, although the bleating calf certainly caught his attention. From his post he watched the congregation settle beneath the naturally made plinth, making no moves to assist them.

No, Ransem only rises once the procession's leader ascends the butte to join him. Goldcoin eyes linger upon Herod's back. Little urgency was instilled within him to view the elder man's face. Certainly not when envious eyes glided across the alligator skin. Oh but how disappointing that it wasn't a gift for him. Not yet anyway. Herod spoke of a meager payment in comparison.

Now, Ransem approached the man, stalking to the Founder's side to accept the rabbit hide parcels. He had been turning the flower over in his hand when Herod offered him a rather barbed comment.

Oh and here I thought you believed I was worth gifting flowers to, Ransem's tone feigned hurt, what a shame, really. You could have been the lucky first.

He would have discarded the flower then too, were it not for the valuable information it held. The stem spins between his toes as he lifts the rather beaten thing to his nose. The image of "stop and smell the flowers" is not lost upon him. So faint were the scents it carried, but they were there. He'd have to keep the damn thing for later.

He skirted around the "be nice" instruction. Herod knew how he felt to be assigned help. So Founder of Godsmouth, have you lost so many teeth that you've needed to outsource more? I know it's a problem that comes with age, but, so soon?

Ransem produced his own pouch, glancing at the contents within before stowing away the flower. He briefly glanced over the contents of Herod's payment. More teeth, he grunted softly, more to himself. He then palmed what was to be for Masa, obviously hefting the parcel within his hand, assessing its weight. Nonetheless, he set it to his side, unopened.

Delivery boy, then. Shall I fetch him too? Ransem queried, the contempt in his voice hidden, veiled beneath a veneer of professionalism. Goldcoin eyes turned to meet those of a raptor, hungry to get to the meat of the conversation. Where is our target, Herod?