Out of the sun, the group breathes in the cool, dry air of the temple, even with magic or an innate resistance against the unrelenting heat it is still not a pleasant thing to endure. The discussion of tactics continues, more focused now without the need for movement distracting them.<strong>“The windows above,” </strong>Fizza chimes in,<strong>“They looked big enough that someone could jump though them, that could help Khait ambush them. Or the rocks above, but its quite a big drop from there, 50ft or so. Could you manage that?”</strong>Plans are also laid out to deal with the bird, as that could allow them to escape more cleanly. Luring it down within range of a bow is voiced, but the Cardinal has another idea.<br/><br/>“Hello Master, you are looking well. What a wonderful cave you have found, is this yours? A little bare, you need some chairs, a table, mahogany or perhaps oak. Velvet carpets, some silk wall hanging, and a tub, other there in the corner. Just imagine then, how nice this will look with those small improvements. So, how may I felt you Master?” the chatty new arrival stands 3 ft tall, hovering in the air by way of two, leathery wings. The imp has a pair stout horns, a thick tail, and muscular torso. Bronze bands decorate his wrists, right forearm and tail, which small rings of silver through each nipple. Kizabum offers Pride a bow, his small eyes flashing towards the others present.<br/><br/>In the meantime, the group also does their best to recall the exact numbers of the mercenaries in case a fight is unavoidable. It is a little hard, there was a lot of chaos. They all recall the half-orc leader with the intimidating stare, and the mage who sealed the passageway with the fire cast from a scroll. There may have been one other mage, though there magic was certainly less flashy. In total there were about 5 other mounted warriors with spears or a blade and shield, and as many as 12 archers, they kept ducking behind their rock piles for cover, it was difficult to keep track. In total that is as much as 20, no more and perhaps a little less, but their fighting tactics will ill suit a siege.<br/><br/>With Cricket making her annoyance very clear, Denhala backs away from her, slumping against the wall beneath the carved form of a camel with a beautifully woven coat lain across its humped back, where she sits in silence.<br/><br/>Mahsati follows the trail left by the animal. The sand at the entrance reveals a lot, there are many legs, thin and pointed, the centre disturbed by a larger mass. Despite this, the elf is fairly confident there was not more than a single creature, and an idea is starting to form in her mind as to just what it could be. Off the sand the tracking becomes a little cards, but stray grains and a hunter's eye trained over the years track it to the room on the left. A kitchen it would seem, though it has also been picked clean, a well in the wall long choked dry by the shifting sand of the desert. However Mahsati's eyes are drawn to the corner 20ft away, where she sees her prey: a giant scorpion is nestled against  about 8ft long, with just as much tail curled over its body, beady eyes watching, the mandibles of the mouth twitching lazily. In the valleys of her home, scorpions could grow, from palm size to that of a well bred dog, but the elf has never seen one this size. The creature has not yet moved, either it is use to hunting less observant prey who would not have noticed it, or perhaps is has simply failed to notice the skulking hunter.