[Legolas]

Ydalon

In the gathering gloom, Ydalon looked upon those who would share the camp.

The man with the hammer had been keeping himself to the background. He had not spoken, merely followed, and had shown himself to be brutal and cruel at the bridge. He had murdered to buy his passage, then discarded his passage as worthless in view of the oppertunities with the travelling group. He was a juggernaught of destruction, but fickle indeed. Even now he showed no intention of introducing himself, of socializing or declaring a position.
By him an arrogant wizard, flaunting his powers without a care for the price attached. Ansolon seemed proud, but this could have been from pampering as easily as near unlimited might. He had joined without a word, and like the ox, kept his aims to himself. These men were closed to all, silent.

The boy turned his eyes to Telryn. He was half a foot below the giant in height, but his scarring made him look no less fierce. A man from the capital, he had come a long way, and was sure to have a reason. Yet he used clear speech and implied a sense of personal honour, and he seemed willing to bring relief to the land.
Nivram was equally unfamiliar. He too had given his word to join the fight, but his tone suggested he felt there was simply no alternative. That any man could be so dulled to conflict. Yet at once he seemed to have a calming influence on the heated arguments that sprang of the people's clashing ideals. His drinking implied concerns to drown, and there surfaced his own. These men hid important facts like gems of the sky.

Glancing down at the package in his hands, and storing it away with care, he thought of Isokla, her words and actions, her venom and truth. A grin spread across his face, she was excellent. He did not seem to reaslise she'd declard her own course.
Then the other woman in their company. They were as the north and south so different, but both claimed a bank of the same river. She was ready for conflict, armored to protect from marring, trained to do battle wherever injustice surfaced. Kagarioni had said her father led the Group of Nine, and he tried to recall whether he'd heard that name before. She stood strong in life. This woman was independant.
Ydalon was pleased to have some variety in the group, some reason for the men to behave themselves and at least pretend proper hygiene.

But Detheriel concerned him. He was kind and helpful in every way, but his looks to Isokla screamed 'Danger!'. When this man wanted something he would pursue it, and he would do so with slickness and guile. Yet he could not be faulted for want of initiative, and while the thought of him sent shivers down the lad's spine, he might simply be just perfect.
Finally, there was the mercenary. A man does not declare himself one unless they are looking to be hired. While he said he would kill for fun, he seemed the type that found someone to pay for his expenses anyway. And coin was a fickle master, for it came and went, from many hands down. Moreover, mercenaries were known to switch sides or dispose of their lords on a whim, for they valued nothing so highly as their own lives. And again, if he was as good a slayer as he claimed, his service free or paid for might be a great asset.

So it was that he answered the question with a challenge.

"Yes," he said, "I know.
"There will be a small delay in crossing the river. Tend your weapons well, and rest. If you are all committed, we leave before dawn."