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From his vantage point, he watches the dark miasma swirl around Darius, a thick shadow draining the man of his life force and leaving no more than a desiccated shell crumbling to the dusty ground. It makes him think back to what he had said on the ship the other day, about wishing to cause pain to those who had harmed him, about being caught between the path he had been walking and the new choices for him moving forward. The battlefield is not the place to talk, but he keeps an eye out for the mage as he moves forward to engage his own target. With power like that, is it possible to move on? Move to K10, shoot Thief 3.

A muffled expletive leaves Lenny at the sudden, cold bite of a knife into his shoulder, and a hand instinctively flies up to the area, coming away a moment later stained in a slash of red where steel had cut through fabric, visible even in the darkness. All around them, the shadow figures are crowding closer, and is he hallucinating or are there more than there were when they'd first stepped out? It doesn't help that the others are toppling left and right like flies, too. "Can you guys get your shit together??" he snaps. Revive Lyla.

Watching as the knight rides back from the engagement, Lenny's expression remains impassive. Severe, even. His eyes remain on the hooded figure that had been impaled, appraising the way it becomes abruptly formless. A couple seconds after Lyle's remark, he then suddenly breaks into a loud, delighted laugh, face breaking into a grin. "Well, at least with someone like you around, this won't be boring!"

Glimpsing the battles some ways away, Idei spurs his horse into motion and readies another arrow, training his sights on the hooded knife-thrower closest to him. His companions on this side would be safe for now; it'd be best to clear up the remaining nearby threats before moving forward. Move to M15, shoot Scav1, Canto to M11.

"Hey." Jogging up from where he'd been left behind in all the clanging and clatter, Lenny lifts his stave, a glowing light emanating from it to envelop the horseman. "Think you can go five seconds without getting walloped?" Move to H5, Heal Lyle.

Lenny watches as a bunch of them rush into the fray, launching into battle beyond where he can easily catch up to them. Coel had said they might need his abilities, but he can't help a bunch of people who can't help themselves. "Don't blame me if you go get and get yourself killed," he grumbles to no one in particular. Hold.

The grainy savannah terrain, the endless sights unto the horizons, impeded only by dips and rises in the landscape — he had felt immediately more comfortable once he stepped off the ship onto this new island. Kite had as well, tangibly relaxing his powerful muscles at the sight and smell of unfamiliar, but comforting, grasses and packed dirt. "Like the steppes of home, mm?" The stallion hadn't responded, but the flick of his ears back to hear Idei's voice had told him enough. Of course, trouble is never far, and he had known this wasn't likely to be a peaceful visit as soon as they came upon the large town to be greeted by ruin and vandalism. The moment the leader of these marauders had turned to look at them with a challenge in his eye, Idei had pulled himself onto Kite's back. And already, as the band of thieves crowded around them, the sounds of battle were starting to ring. Move to M7, attack Shaman 1 with Iron Bow, then Canto to M10.

A crossroads. Idei looks out at the glimmering ocean again, thinking for a moment he both understands what the other man feels and also can't entirely relate. "I think, whatever you choose, you will eventually find what fits you the best," he finally offers. "However . . . I am no diviner, but there is a saying in my tribe that an arrow fired into the sky always comes down. People once harmed you so much that you wish to harm them back. If you do the same, then there may be no end."

Quietly, he listens to the other, to the resignation in his voice. Sympathy roosts heavily in his chest and he barely moves for respect for the other's past situation. What a life to live. He can't imagine something like that happening in his tribe, but then there had only been so many people. Perhaps it isn't so much that it never happened as it was that those it happened to were simply no longer part of the tribe. " . . . I am sorry," he finally replies. "I admit I have never experienced such things." His life had been happy, relatively ordinary. A boy raised like every other Nayavu boy. "Only since I left the sands have I seen how different lives can be." He pauses, then looks at Darius again. "Do you still want revenge on those people?"

Momentarily, Idei considers correcting the mage, but he soon continues and the opportunity is lost. Abandoned? If anything, it is he who has abandoned him, all of them. His chest tightens briefly, but he returns his attention back to Darius, both eager to think of something else and also interested in what he'd said. " . . . Would you wish to share that reason?" he asks calmly. "Magic is still strange to me. In my tribe, it is a practiced secret only the diviners can know."

Surprised to hear the other man say so much, Idei glances sidelong at him, taking a moment to study his face. "I am . . . sorry to hear that," he replies, looking down at the floorboards and then up back out to sea. "I had a beloved mentor that I lost too. I can imagine how it feels."

Getting put to use already. Move to F7, Heal Lyle.

Half-turned on his heel already, Lenny freezes at Coel's request. His shoulders slump slightly, and he has half a mind to ask why it has to be him, of all the healers Coel probably can call on a dime. But just as quickly as it comes, it goes, and he turns around, assessing the look on the Lord's face before finally breaking into a smirk and giving a self-assured huff. "I don't know what you've got in mind, but at least this'll be interesting." Apparently re-invigorated, he falls in with the rest of the group. "All right, never fear, for Lenny is here, and I'll take care of you whether you like it or not. Let's go!"

When Brinda steps up, even Lenny knows better than to argue with her on this one. And besides, he's a little dizzy as he rises to his feet again, wobbling a little before righting himself. After coming here, it's been a long time since he's had to use a stave on anything much bigger than a scrape, and that injury had taken a little more out of him than he'd anticipated. Not that he'd show it. He looks around at the rest of the gathered group, all gung-ho and raring to rush to their deaths. "Well, my job's done," he announces to no one in particular. "Have fun with the shadow guys; I think I'll enjoy some more of the food."

"Heh, don't worry little bird, you've got nothing to be embarrassed about." But Lenny's light, cocky demeanor belies the precision with which he sets about undoing the clasps and buckles that keep Petunia's armor in place. He's vaguely aware of a few of the others at the table now starting to crowd around, insisting something about going out in search for some guy. Must be a knight friend of theirs. It takes the better part of a minute, but finally the armor comes loose around her and he's able to pull it off with a bit of difficulty — heavy metal plating is still a challenge for his skinny arms. Wiping sweat from his forehead, he takes a closer look at where the armor's dug into her side and brings the stave forward again. A hand braced against the carved wood again brings forward its remaining healing powers, knitting together the skin and muscle that the armor had pierced.

Once the girl calms down, he's able to move close again and take a better took. What he sees isn't pretty. The metal is bent out of shape and gnarled, the bit where it's been punched in jamming sharply into her side. " . . . We have to take it off," he says decisively after just a couple seconds, looking at Sherwyn again before beginning to find the places where the apparatus fastened and buckled, only half-listening to what the girl's saying. It's something he's done before — back then, they got the occasional injured person, especially when he was in town, and Lenny'd learned a thing or two about battlefield first aid just from watching him. This isn't much compared to the guy who'd been so badly burned that his armor had melded to his skin.

"Tch. Hey, knight, keep her still. Do whatever you need to do," he says to Sherwyn, leaning back to avoid the girl's flailing. She was just going to hurt herself more like this, or undo all the preliminary healing he'd just done. There's no way he can take a look at that armor while she's having a fit.

When Coel told him to sit down, he almost thought there had to be a catch. There's always a catch. Just eat and enjoy himself? What about all the other servants back there still preparing stuff? ( Not that he's going to complain about being let off the hook, but it's a little odd. ) He opens his mouth to ask— But then seems to think better of it, and just smiles graciously, the picture of courtesy and obedience. "Of course, Lord Coel. Thank you for this opportunity. I'll be sure to enjoy it." His expression slightly drops, though, when he hears someone call behind him, and when he turns, he sees a boy looking up at him and gesturing him over to an empty seat. Hm. Seems friendly. Though that does little for his reluctance, and he takes a moment to appraise both the boy and the others in the immediate nearby seats with a calculating look before making his way over. "Guess I'll just help mys— " He's halfway to depositing a roll on the plate set before him when a commotion rising up from the entryway catches his attention and he watches, with mild surprise changing to confusion to alarm on his face, as the bizarre scene unfolds. And then it's — whatever it was or had transpired — gone, leaving behind a peculiar, suspended kind of silence in the hall that tells Lenny that he hadn't just had some stroke and imagined that whole thing. "The hell?" There isn't a whole lot of time to be confused about it. He's up out of the chair he'd just sat down in less than thirty seconds ago, grabbing a stave he'd propped against the back of the chair. Not much life left in it after that sous-chef's cleaver accident earlier in the morning, but it'd do. "Stand aside! I'm a doctor!" His voice carries despite his small size as he emerges from the throng of people, a look too eager for the situation on his face. He crouches beside the young knight's form, bracing the stave over her. "Let's see what juice this has left in it."

A flicker of a grin crosses the young man's face at the head chef's thinly veiled threat and her calculating eye, as though he's ready to meet whatever her judgment might be, head on, but it disappears quickly when her tone changes. Invite me? He can't help but wonder — again — why. It didn't look like any of the other staff had been extended the same invitation. Brinda's not surprising, as one of the servants with quite a bit more clout around here. But him? He knows better than to pry anymore, though, at least with her. "Heh, I can't complain," he says with a cocky shrug. "Looks like I'll get to try some of the stuff I'm always carrying around this time."

After listening to the conversation for a little while, Idei excuses himself, disappearing into the interior of the ship to use the bathroom. Once back on the deck, he spots someone standing off to the side, apart from everyone else. The magician that's traveled with them all this time; he doesn't appear eager to be part of any gathering, or seek anyone out. Come to think of it, Idei hasn't seem him speak to much of anyone. He doesn't even remember his name. He makes his way nearby, standing beside the railing a respectful distance away. "Do you mind if I join you? There is something about you that invites peace." Calmly, he, too, looks out at the placid ocean glimmering with reflected sunlight.

Lord Coel? Lenny's defiant expression dips into mild surprise. What could the lord want with him? ( Then again, what had he ever wanted with him? A question he'd never managed to find the answer to, even after this many years. ) "Guess there's no saying no to that." Leaving behind the setup, he steps away to follow Brinda out, keeping his wits about him. Anyone who'd spent more than a fortnight here would know the head chef wasn't someone one wanted to be left alone with. "What's he want with me?" he asks once they're moving.

It had taken the better part of the first day on board to convince Kite he would be all right on another ship. The stallion had been as unruly as ever, and Idei was lucky to get away with just a couple new bandaged bite wounds on his arms rather than having some fingers missing. Seated on the deck near the door to the interior ( the sea still makes him a little uneasy, but anything is better than being locked in a small room right now ), he listens to Cadence as she briefly recounts their journey thus far. It's almost hard to remember what their original destination had been; it's strange to realize that all this time all they've been doing is getting rerouted. "A boy like Karik belongs with his family," he says quietly to mother and son with a nod after Cadence is finished, "I'm happy he was able to find his home again."

Stoically toughing through the rearrangement of plates and goblets and everything else that a banquet entailed -- including growling at a greener servant eager to help but only succeeding in getting in everyone's way and nearly colliding with him at one point -- Lenny's ears prick at the sound of familiar clipping heels. Head cook's back, looks like. Doesn't matter much to him. He continues doing what he's doing, pausing for a moment to roll back up a sleeve that's fallen down-- Only to hear his name called over the din. There's a brief, suspended pause as everyone waits, and he sets down a plate before turning around with a slight scowl. "What is it? I'm setting up like I was told!"

Outdoors. Though it had likely been less than a day, it's felt too long since wind has brushed his face. The sensation alone is enough to make him close his eyes and turn into the port breeze, breathe in a lungful of increasingly familiar saltwater air. Finally, he has the room to stretch, even though the halls hadn't been so cramped. Living in a structure closed off from the elements, with thick stone and wood blockading the view of the sky and the softness of the earth, is something he'll never get used to. He follows the others to the docks and watches Madante try and fail to catch them ride after ride to their intended destination. Once or twice, he glances back over his shoulder to make sure more guards aren't following them. If the leaders in this area want them dead or imprisoned for one reason or another, he can't imagine they would be safe wandering these streets for much longer. He thinks back to the woman who had given him that parcel in the instrument store. A pity. These last hours notwithstanding, he'd developed a penchant for this place. His attention turns back to the rest of the group when the alarmed cries of a reunion reach his ears, and he watches little Karik rush into the arms of a woman and call her mother. He watches her turn to Madante and the others with gratitude brimming in her eyes and his chest swells with happiness for the boy while simultaneously aching with a longing of his own. Looking briefly out over the sparkling sea, he thinks about those who might still be waiting for him somewhere beyond the lulling waves lapping at the quay. Could Karik's return home, which he had felt connected them in some way since first meeting the boy, be a herald for his own return someday? His uncle had taught him at a young age to read the arrival of omens, but they were so much more difficult to grasp beyond Arcadia where there was too much water for the shadow of an osprey to signal impending rain. He lets the others speak to the mother, feeling that the moment isn't one for him to intrude upon. A bump to his head has him turn to Kite with a small smile, and he lifts a hand to rub down his nose in soothing strokes. "I know. I am no less thankful for our reunion. Maybe an even greater one awaits us."