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At Robin's command, her hand would reflexively go up to her lips and her fangs would come out, as she bit into her wrist and started drinking her own blood. This would provide no sustenance for her as she continued to drink her own blood. She would close her eyes and a tear of blood would fall from her face, falling into the grass and soaking that particular spot with blood. After a while she would let go, before licking her wrist, which would cause the bites on her arm to disappear. She would glare at Haldor and Robin, her eyes piercing through them.

"Don't be a fool....I have a more refined taste, but some of my people would consider even your blood a delicacy...for when we are starving, we don't exactly become picky..."

Her eyes would travel to Robin as he spotted the group of travelers, and her eyes would widen as she realized who he was talking about. She would shuffle over to Robin, the chains around her ankles making it difficult for her to walk, and she would grab his arm, swallowing her pride to plead for them.

"let them go..."

"Of course dearest, I shall let the men go to them right away" assured Robin completely twisting her words and message to hasten the ambush.

Merthyr was curiously looking at Arun-Ja.

"Tell me something how did you come from Mundus all the way here? Our troubladours speak of Mundus as a place or realm of gods and heroes.... and terrible creatures of nightmare" noted Merthyr interested in this bard so much so that he entirely forgot the basic rule of always being alert to the surroundings, until it was much too late and he found himself surroundered and outnumbered.

"I don't think we stand a chance to fight these thugs, we will have to surrender, on this humiliating occasion. Better the ignominy of slavery than the certainty of death" advised Gawain at Arun-Ja and Merthyr having quickly assessed the risky situation as completely unfavourable for them

Ambrose watched helplessly as the lot of them were ambushed, and she would whirl on Robin. She was growing furious at these humans. She would spit in his eye and scowl, not going to give into power so long as she can help it. She would have folded her arms if she could, but for now, she would have to stand her ground and just deal with a glare and harsh words.

"you KNOW that's not what I meant! You vile human!"

She says looking towards Prince Merthyr. She throws him an apologetic look, but then remembered something. He wouldn't be forced into slavery. If they were all being taken to the same place, then all these bandits and slavers would be doing is returning the Prince home. She would shake her head and lower it to be parallel to the ground. Her hair falling in front of her face, she couldn't help but smirk and laugh lightly to herself, before looking up to the group and watching the events unfold as they were inevitably captured and bound just as she was.

"This is the second time in my adventures, I fear," he agreed, "To be made a slave thrice is nothing I will enjoy." He put away the staff he had drawn out and de-summoned his daedra again.

Aynor came from his makeshift tent pleased to Robin's good work so far.

He placed a Sigil silver cuff around Merthyr to control his every action and word to his liking, another around Gawain, then put a controlling collar on Taff too and held one in front of the bard.

"The gold one stops magic, but you are on your own, the silver Sigil one will make you quite literally a puppet where I am the master puppeteer. Are you going to obey me willingly or do I need to put either around your neck?" quizzed Aynor

"I've been captured by a Daedric Prince, with my soul taken, may I add," he retaliated, "But I shan't be controlled by anyone via magic. I'll behave, for now. But there will be no music from my lips."

While the 5 leaders seemed to be preoccupied with Arun, she would move to stand besides Merthyr and Taff, keeping her voice lowered to a whisper. Her bakgs would fall in front of her face, but she would remain calm and collected, despite their current situation. She would glance at the two of them through strands of her hair before speaking to them.

"It appears that we are on the same boat. But tell me, if we are headed back to your father's kingdom, then why would they bind you with the silver collar as well..."

She says before looking at Arun. He should consider himself lucky he even had a choice, as the group had rendered the the rest of them nothing more than puppets awaiting orders. She would stare at the ground, waiting for an answer.

"Aynor is an outlaw, the most sought bandit in the realm, he has far more execution orders against his name than parchments at the royal library. Who knows what he has in store for me to force my or my father's hand for the matter and I honestly dread to find out altogether" muttered Merthyr wearily

---

Robin frowned at Arun "I could consider that an offensive rebellion of sorts, get singing or I will cut out the useless tongue that won't serve its masters" warned Robin in a no nonsense tone

"oh...great...do me a favor, keep who I am to yourself...my father has a plan, and I'm trying to see it through..."

She says before looking up and staring at the five captors. She shakes her head and sighs, bringing her arms in front of her and staring at them, her eyes glowing much brighter.

"You lot are truly a sad bunch, aren't you..."

She says before taking a seat on the ground. She would presume that they were going to rest, given that they had mentioned they were famished, and wondered if they still planned on making her cook. She would simply shake her head though, pulling her body closer to her as she waited to see what her captors would make her say and do next.

"I've braved the depths of Coldharbour, walked through fire and death, seen the horrors of nightmares, endured the loss of my family to Molag Bal, and defeated the same in a duel. My tongue is part of my soul, and shall you cut it from me, my mistresses, Azura and Meridia, shall restore it all the same. Do what you will, but I shall not become enslaved by measly bandits, when the Daedric lords have already sought my life for their own." He spat on Robin's face, tempting him further. "Come now, fool," he shouted with confidence, "Let us see the results of your ignorance."

"Well that was an impressive enough narrative... see? You can do your job with some prompting by the looks of it" nodded Robin quite liking the explanation "These gods of yours are they menacing and powerful? or whelps that idle among flowers and beauty ignoring mortals prayers and pleas?" quizzed Robin

"Robin... hush now... you and I are taking these back to the city, up to the king what to do with the bard so no maiming him, you cannot present to him a mangled offering. You know his majesty has a distinct taste for these exotic stories of myth and might, he wouldn't take it kindly if you were to remove this one's tongue and spoil his chance to hear more of it" explained Aynor watching Robin sheathe the dagger he had taken out to make good on the threat.

"You heard... the king wants to hear you... so get marching, the lot of you" muttered Robin nudging the man forward and the rest of the group.

"We can dine with the king... the least he can do for finding his precious son... unharmed..." smirked Aynor with a glint of mischief in his eye as he stared at Merthyr.

Ambrose would stumble as she was nudged, walking alongside the rest of the group as they traveled. She sighed as she looked down at her shackles that gleamed in the moonlight. She would trudge forward as best she could, disgusted that they were gonna sell the prince back to his own father like property. She would shake her head in disgust and quietly hum an eerie melody to herself to pass the time, taking care that this was done under her breath so she wouldn't accidentally entertain the others. She would continue to do this as they walked, before eventually turning to Prince Merthyr.

"What is this kingdom of yours like..."

"As a slave it can be most unpleasant, as a visiting royalty it would be not too bad. As a bandit it would be dangerous if deadly roaming the lands with a death warrant against your name, as a law abiding citizen, it is a prosperous wealty country with plenty of opportunity to live well and make wealth" admitted Merthyr in full honesty

"Now tell me, what is this plan of yours that you are working on?" asked Merthyr concerned that she might be plotting harm against his father or knights

Lancelot saw Inai prepare for battle sword unsheathed and extended but the lad had held it much too low to be able to parry his attack effective or efficiently

With the quick speed, the thrust forward and the step forward he hoped to close the distance between them and secure the strike in a very well timed manner.

Lancelot hoped to get Inai wounded enough to stop fighting altogether but not serious enough as to be a permanent or life threatening injury, it should still render the boy unable to carry on with the fight or painfully impede him to fight well thus giving himself a serious advantage whilst shortening the duel

Inai saw the blade coming and with an almost reckless abandon for his own life rushed forward, knowing full well that a deflection of his opponents blade would not be possible. So he simply didn't try.

Instead he aimed to put everything behind a counter-attack, one which would offset damage equally between the two. With this knowledge and that of the pure adrenaline coursing through his veins he almost didn't notice when his opponents blade sunk into his flesh. While Lancelot had aimed for a flesh wound it went much deeper into his left arm, bitting deeply into the flesh there.

Turning the other half of his body he brought his blade round and swung towards the knights armoured side with all his strength.

Lancelot cringed as his well aimed blow meant to do a small slice on the upper shoulder to scare the lad into backing off, ended up causing a major injury leaving Inai's arm unusuable altogether as this wreckless youth decided to come close and forward without making any effort to parry the blow at all. He had to admit to himself that the youth may have lacked the training in defence techniques but he was indeed brave if wreckless for not cowering against the incoming strike.

In all but a moment he noticed Inai's sword slash at him sideways, which was an unexpected move too, Lancelot having counted on a parry rather than a counter attack instead.
The blade skid over the armour plunging right into the upper arm and causing a wound of his own.

He kicked the lad backwards with his boot to create distance from the blade and give himself the chance to switch sides, now holding the sword with his left arm instead, given Lancelot was equally ambidexterous. He had hoped the push back would add distance and give each other sufficient time to prepare for the next strike

Ambrose would look towards Merthyr, her skin glowing in the moonlight as she trudged alongside of them, led by the band of slavers. Though she kept her head lowered to the ground, in a false sign of compliance while she walked, though maintaining her composure. She would keep her voice in a low whisper before moving to be closer to Prince Merthyr, speaking in hushed tones.

"I plan on stopping this war from within it's own walls..."

She says, going silent after. She wouldn't risk the others hearing, and Prince Merthyr's description made her worried to say the least, but she wouldn't let that scare her. At least, not until they reached the castle. She would continue walking alongside him, waiting for the inevitable moment she would be "sold" like property and cattle.

With eyes dripping in satisfaction Inai watched his blade bite into the knight's shoulder, drawing on another well of sickly crimson liquid to add that already drawn. The wound was nowhere near as deadly or destructive than the one inflicted on himself but that didn't really matter. He'd scored a hit.

This he realised was what he lived for, this sense of thrill and rush when it came to the fight. The life or death struggle of warriors locked in combat and for that, he thanked his opponent. Yet beyond that, there was no more thought given to the identity of whom he was fighting or anything else about him. It just simply didn't matter.

That same sense of elation was vanquished a moment later, as the boot which he'd never seen coming landed squarely on the front of his chest. Sending the younger fighter reeling backwards and unable to stay upright, taking only two steps before changing a whole 90 degrees in verticality.