36.2ᴘᴀᴛʀᴇᴏɴ.ᴄᴏᴍ/sᴛʀᴀᴛᴏᴛʜʀᴀx

Several dirt paths lead away from the camp. The paths had enough traffic that Lyra decided to take them over the grass and avoid them altogether. They neared the palisade warily. It was not that tall but tall enough that three pregnant people did not have a hope of climbing over it. After a moment of consideration Lyra led them along the wall and they neared a gap where a dirt path led inside.

"We're going to have to slip by the guard. Care not to break the invisibility, it's fragile. We'll have to hold to luck that they aren't on the lookout for invisible levelers."

The three nodded in determination and Lyra slunk forward. The entrance was being guarded by a severe looking Elf and a Human, each fairly highly leveled and well off judging by their gear. She paused and let a man with a heavily laden handcart pass and then slipped into his wake. Fortunately, the man was slow enough that her own procession didn't have any trouble keeping up.

The Elf's sharp eyes paused on Lyra for a moment as she passed, did he know? Elves had an aptitude unlike others to sense the use of magic. A pair of magical spectacles with violet lenses hung on a chain around his neck. He would only need to lift them to his eyes and pour mana into them and he would be able to see straight through Lyra's invisibility, all four of them instantly laid bare to his sight.

The Elf furrowed his brow causing Lyra's breath to hitch. The Elf's hand began to move toward the spectacles, but the Human suddenly motioned to something behind them. A cart being pulled by a number of Goblin slaves had stopped by the path as one of the Goblins had fainted from exhaustion. The Human guard began to approach the cart and the Elf guard followed.

Lyra let out a breath of relief and quickly shuffled her pregnant procession on into the camp.

They snuck amongst the rows of tents. The tents differed as it seemed that the Inquisitor had rallied from the locale populace of levelers. They varied from small tents, to medium tents, to large expensive tents owned by the highly leveled. People bustled between them and Lyra had to navigate through the gaps and least busy areas.

A clopping sound caught her attention and she turned her head in time to see a particularly large female Gnoll type Centaur heading toward them, she dragged the group out of her path in alarm as the Centaur trotted oblivously by. Curiously a black cloaked figure rode on the Centaur's back, their face obscured by a wooden mask. They weren't the only ones to notice and the Centaur attracted stares.

"My, what is that Centaur doing? Allowing a person to ride her back? Scandalous!" Whisper hissed the Lamia.

"I couldn't tell you, it is odd though, I thought Centaurs hated allowing others to ride them unless they absolutely had to."

"They certainly do, oh, I've seen a Centaur demand a duel to the death just for a drunk fool attempting to climb atop them!"

"Hrmm. Maybe the Lamia will know, and more to the point maybe they will know what this whole thing is about."

They continued along behind the tents, by coincidence following the Centaur. Lyra kept a careful eye on her, wary of where she was going, she did not want to be accidentally trampled by the strong looking leveler. While her lower body was that of a wild mare the upper body was that of a powerful looking Gnoll, muscle rippling beneath her coat. She had a grumpy look in her eye.

As Lyra watched the Centaur suddenly came to a stop in front of a Human. Lyra had to take a moment to take in this new Human as he was jarringly large, over seven foot she estimated. He was extremely muscular with arms like tree trunks and long black hair and a fearsome black beard that hung over his chest, braided at the edges with silver rings. One of his eyes was covered by a black and silver eyepatch. A fat black cigar hung from the corner of his mouth, he rolled the cigar between his teeth as he eyed the Centaur from beneath a heavy brow. He sat on a wooden throne which creaked beneath his muscular bulk, that someone had gone to the trouble of dragging it out to the camp an indication of the man's power. His large ring bejeweled hand rested on the head of an actual real Hellhound by his side. The Hellhound's eyes glowed red as it observed the Centaur with its master. On his other side a six and a half foot long black greatsword was thrust into the ground, although it could barely be called a sword, more a rough slab of brutal looking iron.