[Lyra Greenleaf]

Pio could you put this in the first save place please, it's at night.

“Anyone care to lose a little money?” Sammael called in the middle of the camp. He wanted to forget what he couldn’t prevent; the image of a faceless girl screaming in terror kept appearing in his mind. He waved his cards at a member of Ghurdan’s crew who glanced his way, then again at Zasfal. Both looked uncertain.

“Come on” Sammael called again impatiently. “I’ll play with my eyes shut if it’ll make you feel better!”
“No need for that” answered a tall man, another of the acrobats. He was broad as well as tall, slow moving and slow speaking.

Sammael grinned widely at the thought of easy money. Quickly he lit a torch and put it into the ground, then sat cross legged on the floor and began to deal. Calmly his opponent sat himself down. They played a hand, and Sammael won easily. The man paid, showing no signs of ill-will, then gestured Sammael to deal again.

“Deal for three” Zasfal said from behind Sammael, then sat between the other two men. Sammael grinned wolfishly at him and did as he was bade. This hand was harder fought- the crewman had good cards, and Zasfal was a sneaky player with some talent. Sammael won, but the next went to Zasfal. During the fifth game, Zasfal smiled maliciously.

“I didn’t see you when the Priestess performed the sacrifice” he said with a sideways look.
Sammael ignored him.
“I would have thought that someone as dedicated as you would have been watching keenly” Zasfal added with feigned nonchalance.
Sammael shrugged, but the visions of a girl screaming were back.
“Why don’t you tell him about it Arun?” Zasfal asked the crewman.

The monosyllabic man looked surprisingly eager, and began to recite had happened in great detail- the strike of the knife, the site of the blood as it dripped slowly to the ground, the convulsions of the dying body, the look on the girl’s face from the first realisation what was happening to the pallor of death.

Sickened, Sammael lurched to his feet and vomited. Zasfal snorted, then began to laugh. He was soon joined by the other man. Anger coursed through Sammael.
What kind of a man will watch as a woman is killed? he thought with disgust, eying the two men still seated on the ground. Slowly he drew his belt knife and walked towards the crewman Arun. He jumped to his feet, drawing his own knife, but his shoulders were still shaking from laughter. His glance told Sammael that he expected a weak opponent, one who would not kill- one that would show mercy.

Without warning he lunged and caught the other man off guard. He withdrew, then lunged a second time, knocking the man’s knife from his hand. Finally Sammael looked into the man’s eyes and slowly drew his knife across his throat. With satisfaction he watched the body fall, and life leave the man’s face. He looked around. Zasfal had run, that was not surprising. Maybe one day it would be his turn, but not now. Feeling much better Sammael cleaned his knife on the fallen man’s sleeve and walked away to his tent.

So, if anyone fancies punishing Sammael, that's fine. His defence would be that they got in a fight, he won, what's the big deal? Or if revenge is better then like I said, Nerindel, you could kill/ attack Damodred.