Salvation saunters toward the gathering, barking orders to all that it sees. Gentle feet skip across one of the dusty trails from the Inn, brushing off the last traces of fine wine still coursing through the blood. People do not give this newcomer much respect, most of them looking down at this important team member... Literally. Still, the confident reinforcement does not falter, merely racing toward Hilda's side. With a loud cry to announcing his arrival, the chosen hero drops to the ground and reveals its belly.
The Culture Hound clad in leather armor demands some pre-maiming scritchees before it begins its important task of morale building and proper alerting. While one might wonder where its master is, a couple moments is all that is needed before it is answered.
Stepping out of the shadows of one of the buildings, Savio seems to 'appear', dressed in black leather armor and his usual black hooded cloak. Glancing around the horizon with a piercing gaze, the unlikely Warden does something he never had before. Take charge.
"What is the situation?" Savio inquires to whoever is close by, not at all caring if it is a member of his party or not. "I sense that this is not a main fighting force, but I admit that this... whatever is not something I have quite gotten used to."
Regardless of whatever answer he gets, the Antivan Crow makes up for his past silence as his voice bellows out like an orator from his homeland. "Those that fight for the Wardens, gather!" And with that, he begins to move toward the once-retreating girl and the armored woman. Drawing his hood down, the Crow pulls out his daggers as he moves forward. While it appears that when he speaks, he acts to be seen. After all, it would be a poor leader that flees into the shadow and for now, it would seem that the mantle has fallen to him and he remains at the forefront, even as his Crow tactics tells him otherwise.