Her eyes narrowed at the she-orc's repeated command and the threat she insinuated. In response, her fingers tightened around the stock, index finger straying up towards the trigger. "Perhaps you ought to come and take it, then," she growled under her breath, daring a look behind her at the other two as they moved to block any chance of escape. Damn. She had really put her foot in it this time, and there was nobody coming to her rescue. It was glaringly obvious that if she chose to fight it would almost certainly end badly on her part, and yet she held her ground and bluffed like her life depended on it, trying to buy a few seconds to think. She was loathe to be parted from her only ranged weapon with three potentially hostile enemies surrounding her, especially since she didn't trust them to actually honor a surrender. If the messenger was right, then these scouts likely belonged to the same tribe that had been attacking caravans months ago. They were the enemy. They were monsters who sought nothing more than bloodshed and chaos.<br/><br/>Before either of the two hot blooded females could make a move, however, a cooler head prevailed. The crossbow point was aimed for the older orc as he stepped in to break up the fight before it began, but she held her fire with a suspicious glare. She tried to discern whether or not he spoke the truth, but it was difficult to read that scarred, craggy face. The she-orc still looked to be itching for a fight, and Liirah had little doubt that if she made any sudden movements towards the elder, she'd get an axe to the skull. She ground her jaw in frustration, realizing that whatever action she decided to take, it wasn't likely that she was going to walk away today. If she attacked, it would likely be a brief, one-sided fight. If she surrendered...?<br/><br/>Pick your battles, she could almost hear him say. Ignatius had always been a good deal more pragmatic than her, tempered by years of field experience. Retreat. Plan. Live to fight another day, rather than take on a beast you cannot hope to defeat on your own. She supposed this fell to a decision between certain death and only probable death. It didn't matter if they meant to kill her once she was disarmed--she was dead either way. But if they intended to let her live for whatever reason, it gave her opportunity to learn what she was dealing with and bide her time until she could make a move. Perhaps she would even be brought to wherever they had taken Ignatius.<br/><br/>It was a blow to her pride, but with a quiet huff of disgust, she lowered the bow, flicking a second trigger to gently release the tension in its string without firing the nocked bolt. She popped it from its notch and returned the unspent bolt to the pouch at her belt, next to her sheathed saxe knife. Scowling, she offered the crossbow handle to the older of the two men, giving him a stink-eye approximate to the glares they had been treating her to just a moment ago. Fine. She'd play along for now, but by no means had they brought her to heel. The moment she found Ignatius, she vowed, she was getting them both home.