<72> Talla's cheeks were a deep crimson as she took in the spectacle. The ever-watchful huntress kept a sharp eye on the orc next to her, though he didn't appear to be much of a threat. He seemed to have let go of his bearings to focus fully on the mating pair, his hand furiously stroking his tool all the while. As much as she admittedly wanted to see them finish, she knew their current mission was more important, and as quietly as she could she slid backwards to creep up right behind the filthy orc. The pained grunt that followed was enough to break the couple from their own reverie. Talla had caught the orc in a lightning-fast chokehold, and moments later he'd fallen unconscious to the tent floor. Father and daughter exchanged glances, their adrenaline spiked, both of them knowing what had to be done next. In an explosion of motion, all three tauren separated and charged for the remaining cultists in the tent. Lyrah took the wind straight from their lungs, Drenan did the same with proper punches to the gut, and the agile Talla made sure that any who attempted to flee the tent were down and out with her well-practiced holds. In the span of a minute, the cultists were down, leaving the remaining prisoners to slowly adjust to suddenly no longer having captors. The trio struggled to catch their breaths. Lyrah and Drenan looked to each other and burst into giddy laughter, realizing that neither of them were fully dressed. Drenan perhaps suffered the worst blush, the adrenaline having kept his manhood quite fully erect before him. Talla quickly whirled herself away from the two to usher the prisoners out the back, while Lyrah couldn't resist giving her father a cheeky grin as she began to readjust her own garb. "You okay there, daddy?" Drenan swallowed hard as he began to wrestle quickly with his own disguise. "I... will live, yes. It was simply necessary for the plan," he returned and cleared his throat. "Are you alright?" Lyrah nodded coolly as she shifted her weight from one hoof to the other, shimmying her leggings back up over her prominent posterior little by little. "I'm good, really. That worked way better than I was expecting," she admitted, a deep flush still coloring her cheeks. Once satisfied with her disguise -and ensuring her tail had been properly situated between a newly-torn hole in the robes this time- she stepped quite close to Drenan and rose up on the tips of her hooves to whisper in his ear, "You... think we could do that again sometime?" A soft sigh of relief escaped the paladin above all, followed by a soft chuckle. "We will discuss it later, young lady. I think we can work something out." Lyrah couldn't help but giggle lewdly in return and plant a lingering kiss on her father's cheek. Seeing him act so primal compared to his usual gentle demeanor had affected her far more than she'd imagined, but now wasn't the time to talk about it. The pair nodded in agreement and finished their adjustments as Talla returned, the back of the tent fluttering as the last prisoner darted away. "That'll buy us s-some time," the white-furred huntress reported as calmly as she could manage. "Most of them got a head start, but the last few alerted some guards. If we're quick we can slip out and pretty much cross an empty camp." "Good," Drenan agreed and nodded to the both of them as he pulled his hood back over his head. "Let us be quick." * * * * * Indeed, the escape of the prisoners had nearly cleared out much of the camp, and the trio had little difficulty in heading further eastward. The few cultists that stood guard were more concerned with watching for their counterparts than acknowledging the trio, and before they knew it they'd stepped into a wide expanse surrounded by a number of smaller structures and tents. At its center stood a pair of massive obelisks, between which stood a stoic-looking, jet black-furred taureness. Her wrists were bound above her head by silver chains pounded into the obelisks, forced to stand out in the open before a mass of mysterious, violet-colored energy. Her head did not bow despite her imprisoned state, though her shamanic garb had been torn in several places, cloth hanging loosely from her body. Despite her age, it was clear that she had passed a few of her physical traits down to Lyrah, most easily noticeable from the diving neckline of her tattered robes, as well as the gravity-taken endowments of the Elder Crone's bosom. Drenan's gaze hardened as he looked her up and down, one massive arm gently moving in front of both young women to keep them back as he strode toward the crone, boldly dropping his hood to reveal his face. "You have not changed a bit in two decades, Magatha." The mottled crone's amber eyes intricately searched the burly male, though her expression did not change. "But you have aged so terribly, Drenan. Please, spare an old woman time-wasting talk and get to the point. You wanted to speak, so speak, and make my time here worthwhile." The paladin's gaze hardened. "Fine. Call off the attack on Freewind Post for good. Our people have suffered enough. Do so, and we shall free you with the promise you shall not attack again." A long moment of silence ensued, the crone looking from the paladin to the pair of yet-hooded tauren. "How a paladin garnered such a silver tongue is beyond me. You have swayed me once, but I would sense it if you had brought Kinah with you. You have no leverage over me." Drenan did not back down. "I do not see you going free without our help." "Then look closer, fool." As nonchalantly as could be, Magatha snapped her fingers, and the magical shackles at her wrists shattered into dust. The Elder Crone rolled her shoulders as her arms came free, the gesture prompting a soft grunt of discomfort. "No one imprisons me forever. You are rather late compared to the adventurers who freed me earlier. It would have been wrong of me to deny you your requested meeting, however." She made no modest move to cover her half-exposed form, though Drenan kept himself firmly focused on her eyes. "Now, why must I cease the attack again?"