Chapter One: Greenest in Flames!

Trusting Bughu to handle the strange mustachioed man, Jon produces his hand axe and prepares to cut the prisoner free, stopping dumbly when he looks up at the bonds tying the prisoner's hands above his head, far out of Jon's reach.

Seeing how the "cultist" has ignored the warning and is moving closer, Bughu pulls the trigger on his hand crossbow. In practiced rhythm, his other hand slides a second bolt in and draws the string, quickly enough for another shot.

Okay. Well then. This is how it is.

Pressed into a sense of greater urgency by the release of Bughu's crossbow bolt, Jon climbs up the body of the prisoner, muttering apologies, to get himself within axe-reach of the bindings.

Jon will try to cut him free of the bindings as quickly as he can.

As the first bolt hits, he winces in pain as it digs into his shoulder, he sees as the crossbow is loaded up again and the aim is slightly off; he steps into the stray arrow catching it into his other shoulder with another wince of pain. He continues his path, arms spread slightly less wide but still in a hugging fashion. He steps to Bughu and attempts to connect the hug.

Regardless if he makes the embrace he whispers to him

Bughu tries to twist out of the embrace, turning his shoulder downward and kicking his leg up in a spin for momentum. The maneuver fails to put any distance between them, and as the arms and words of Myrio envelop him, Bughu wedges his hand crossbow into the man's side.

"You either let me go right now," snarls Bughu, "or have this shoved through your stomach." With a glance to Erich, Bughu's eyes flit to Myrio with unspoken intent.

"I'm not the enemy here." he whispers back before disengaging the embrace, still in a low voice "Don't do anything stupid, if you have no care for yourself, have some for the prisoner." He grabs the two bolts by the feathering, snaps them, and pulls them out through the back, pocketing the broken remains. He then turns and makes his way to any nearby tent.

"You say you're not the enemy," mutters Bughu, "but you've neither identified yourself as a friend."

Another bolt is loaded. "Grab the prisoner. We're getting out of here."

Erich stands by, watching the interplay with some interest.

What in the Hells is going on here?

Erich nods to Bughu, and makes his way to the prisoner, seizing one bicep with his hand.

Guys, we need to move, quietly away from here. I'm afraid we'll have people upon us soon. Erich says, looking nervously at those that are moving towards the larger tent.

Knowing that time is short, Bughu leads the group back out the way they came. "Fast walk," he urges. He prepares his weapons and continues, "Ready whatever you can in case we get stopped again."

"Rezmir's orders," says Bughu. "We have to move the prisoner. Verify if you like, but I cannot tarry."