If the archers who are running away are still within 30 feet, Thiferl will fire the icicles at them (he thinks they're going for backup), if not he'll fire at the remaining archers.

After knocking one more guard to the ground, Argent felt the battle should be over quickly. They were wasting getaway time.

Quickly scanning for the whereabouts of the others, he spotted the next available guard and charged.

After a quick look around to get his bearings, the half-elf sorcerer quickly began ushering the slaves away from the combat. It seemed his companions had things well in hand, and the best thing he could do was to keep things moving along as best as he could. After all, they were on a schedule, and failure really wasn't an option.

Argent charged one of the two remaining guards in the alley. In a rush he came up past the 1/2 orc swinging at legs and torso of the man before him. The guard attempted to leap out of the way but the dangerous dwarf clipped his leg in mid-air throwing him off balance. Before the guards feet had even touched the group the 1/2 orc's two blades came across in a scything strike. The crunch of steel on bone was audible to all nearby as the bloody and broken man fell tohis back instead of his feet, dying where he landed.

Fear was plain in the eyes of the last guard as he looked up to see his only remaining comrade brutally slain. Skit smiled at the distraction. It was all he needed. His own blade slid smoothely between the mans ribs. The shocked immediately returned his attention to the little one, only to realize that his life was quickly bleeding away. He takes one last swing, putting all the strength of his failing life into it, but he can only rate a glancing blow (inflicting 2 hp damage on Skit) before falling dead.

Thiferl stands calmly on the top of the warehouse office, despite the flying arrows. He focus his faith once again, materializing it into a dart of frozen water. Intending to aim it at the fleeing archers he gauged the distance for the shot. They were already too far away. Without a second thought he sent the icicle slashing into the same archer who he had injured before. Unlike the first shot, this one did significantly more damage as it slashed through the man's bow and impaled itself into the man's stomach. He fell to the ground clutching at the quickly melting missile, unable to pull it from his body. The two archers that remained took aim, but thought better of it and slowly backed out of sight, keeping their bows trained on Thiferl in case he chose to launch another missile at them.

The battle was drawing to a close. With Echo's help the last of the slaves reached solid ground and they were ready to leave. The path towards the glassworks seems the most likely path to your goal if you wish to avoid the street.

One of the slaves, a middle-aged human man by the look of him, comes up to Echo once the slaves are all off of the roof.

"Thank you my lord for saving us! What's your name? Where did you come from?"

He looks as anxious as the rest of the slaves. They seem to want to be away from this place as soon as possible, and for the moment, they look to you for guidance.

Echo cleared his throat and mustered all the confidence and charisma he could as he replied to the slave that had addressed him, "While your gratitude is appreciated it is not necessary at all. As for the questions, I honestly do not feel that it is wise to stand around having a conversation when there may be more guards upon us at any time. We must continue on toward the Glassworks, you'll receive all the answers you need when we get to the safe house."

Echo hated to lie, but he could not tell the man that they had been sent to 'retrieve some stolen property' bearing a mark identical to the brands burned into so many of these poor people. Sometimes though lies had to be told for the greater good, goals had to be reached, lives had to be saved.

The half-orc ruffled through the remains of the gaurds. he was looking to see if he could replace the swords he had now with these new ones that had scabbards that fit them. He also looked to see if any of the corpses had a bow and quiver of arrows. Once he looted the necessities off of these victims, he looks to his new found comrades with his one eye. He was silent, giving a simple nod of the head as a sort of gesture of acknowledgement. He awaited for the unveiling of the plan of escape.

Thiferl watched the last of the archers disappear, and then followed the last of the slaves down the latter. Announcing to anyone withing earshot in a casual tone of voice (not shouting), "The archers will probably go for reinforcements, we need to make this quick."
He then muttered a prayer and unleashed another healing burst, he could see enough injuries that this would make things easier.
Finally he turned to his brother and gave him a nod, as if to say, we lived through another one.
((ooc: he'll help take up the rear of the migration, he still has the dead slave on his shoulders))

With the combat at an end they were in a bit of a hurry. It wouldn't be long before more guards would show, and Argent remembered the people inside the office. They would surely alert more reinforcements if they had a chance.

So, urging the slaves to move if they didn't take the initiative themselves, he found his place amongst the group. Echo was already leading them away from the storage building, so Argent happily joined his brother at the back.

"A pity, to have to take so many lives to save others." He said. "You ok?"

Looking at the half orc he nodded his head as their eyes met. It was a silent inclination of respect. The man had proven to be a true warrior.

"I have to ask," he spoke loud enough so the half orc could hear him, "What is that brand there?"
He pointed at the mark on the half orc's skin.

The two had acknowledged their battle prowess, but the sudden reminder brought a plethora of feelings: anger, regret, shame. Feelings that urged him to crack open a head in order to cope. However, this being was not the one to unleash said urges upon. So instead, the Half-orc let out a low, threatening growl and then turned to walk off with the rest of the crowd. Friend making? no, probably not. But it was better then allowing his true passions out. With his back turned to the dwarf, the half-orc only half consciously covered his mark with the remainder of his clothing.

The half orc let out a low growl, which made Argent cock one eyebrow and leave the man alone. Apparently it was something he didn't want to be reminded of. Still, the branding was a piece of the puzzle, and he needed an answer to get a better picture of what was going on here. Also, in his mind he still had doubts about returning these slaves to their 'proper owner'. It didn't feel right. He was sure that he himself wouldn't enjoy being branded. In his mind he was weighing possibilities but kept them to himself for now.

So, he took a few steps so he got closer to the half orc, and spoke in a low voice: "It's alright. I'll ask one of these other people."

And he did.

(OOC: Don't know what else to make of it. Argent will inquire about the brand and how people got them. Any information about who, why, what, when will do. )

The group quickly organizes, knowing that there isn't much time before they come upon more organized resistance. Echo begins to usher the surviving slaves down the alleyway towards the glassworks, though the excitement and confusion that has enveloped the crowd of slaves does slow them down a bit. Each of you overhears a number of theories from them as they mumble amongst themselves.

"These are our saviros. They've come to save us and put an end to slavery!"

"Did you see the that dwarf handled those soldiers? And without even having a weapon!"

"They're probably just agents of another slaver who didn't want to pay for us."

"They let the orc thing have swords! Aren't they afraid he'll murder them?!? Who would give swords to such a beast?"

"Maybe they're slavers themselves and want to sell us off to the highest bidder!"

As these mumbled conversations continue Argent notices (thanks to a successful sense motive check) that the slaves are becoming ever more agitated and wary of the party. There seems to be an ever increasing gap surounding each of the party members as the slaves edge every further from them, and ever closer to each other.

As the group passes through the alleys around the glassworks Argent moves closer to the slaves gently inquiring about the brands. At first they seem afraid and skittish, but them a woman steps forward to answer his questions. She is tall, with the pointed ears and smooth skin of an elf. Her red hair would flow down her back like a cascading waterfall had it not been so tangled and matted.

"We are slaves dwarf." The bitterness and frustration is plain in her voice, though the subject of it is rather vague. "Our loving masters gave us these to protect us from the evil of men." The sarcasm drips from her lips alongside the words. "We are property you oaf. Brands are how our owners claim us." She stops speaking for a moment, glaring at the dwarf. "You may have gotten me out of that hole, but don't think for one second that I belong to you." The anger and rage is radiating from her like a living thing as a man steps between her and Argent.

"Don't mind her my lord." He says, laughing nervously. "We are thankful for the rescue... but we are curious what is to become of us now?" He turns as if to scold the red-haired woman, but she has disappeared back into the crowd of slaves.

Though you have been lucky enough not to encounter any furhter agents of the stolen slaves' master, there are fewer alleys in the section of the city in which the warehouse of your employer lies. You may have to travel the main streets to get there... unless another opporunity presents itself...

(OOC: You are about half-way to your patron's warehouse at the moment, still traveling through back alleys. You have walked for just over a quarter hour since the encounter at the warehouse itself.)

"Pardon me," Thiferl asks one of the slaves that has wandered near him. "What was this man's name?" Thiferl shifts the body from one shoulder to the other. "I'd like to make sure his soul travels safely to the great beyond." ((or whatever the afterlife is in this world))

The tension was thick as they hurried through the streets toward their destination. The longer than walked the more impatient and irritated the mob of slaves became. He occupied his mind trying to think of something to say, or do, or even just take his mind off of what would happen if they were set upon again by either the warehouse guards, or even the city guards for that matter. The cry of one of the children snapped the half-elf out of his thoughtful trance, and reality again set in. It seemed he wasn't the only one trying to escape this reality, and plastering on another of his best fake smiles and turning on his "happy voice" the sorcerer, speaking to no one in particular, said, "Not much further now, let's push on and hope for the best!"

(I honestly don't know where to go with this at all, Echo doesn't like the mission anymore than the Dwarves, but at the same time he doesn't see failure as an option. He dreads the reactions the group is sure to get from this mob when they catch on, but dreads the consequences of failure just as much if not more.)

The white moon is descending in the west as you move into the main streets of Calatain. The mob of slaves is growing ever more anxious, and suspicious of the party. Despite this they seem to move without complaint as you direct them to the warehouse they will be delivered to. Your convoy does not get any strange looks from passers by, nor do the city watch patrols bother you in the slightest. It seems such sights are more common in this city than you imagined.

A few blocks away you notice the warehouse with the triskell symbol painted in rich blue pigments above the door. It is there you must reach. But, it is always when the goal is closest that the bottom seems to fall out from under you. Argent notices that at least one slave no longer seems to be with the group. The fiery haired elf is nowhere to be seen. The number of slaves does seem to be fewer, though not significantly so. Outside of the warehouse you spot a group of armed men.

(Successful Perception from Echo) The armaments of these men seem remarkably similar to those you fought when you originally rescued the slaves, though you cannot see any brand or symbol marking their allegiance. One of them seems to be discussing something with a well dressed man outside of the warehouse. From this distance you cannot recognize any of the men.

The half-orc walked through half the city with the strangers. His nerves were on end, just like all the others who have been branded. Skulking the outskirts of the crowd, he followed the group faithfully. It was more out of curiosity than out of love or honor that he trailed beside the group, but now that they have come within distance of yet another ware house, and the heroes looking like they wanted in, the half-orc was able to "put 2 and 2 together".

To leap from one cell to another was not ideal to him. He had work to do, and a home to free. At the same time, however, he knew that these people who had freed him may be of some help to him. If anything, they were more urban-savvy then he was, and could direct him better then if he acted alone. Furthermore, as much as he worked alone, he also knew that certain challenges could only be accomplished with the efforts of many. Stalking forward, he came next to the caped-dwarf. Crossing his arms, the half-orc murmured to his acquaintence who had tried to strike up a discussion with him earlier.

"I will follow, but I will not be shackled a second time." He did not look at the dwarf, but instead stared straight ahead at the emblem crested warehouse. No more words were needed. His thoughts and feelings were properly brought to light; or so he thought.