They Who Slaughter Kings IC

[Silvir]

The young girl changed when they finally left the city. The ending of the banquet had left her fuming, for that man to call her a child like that. However, such thoughts quickly left her mind as they were on the road and Erin could feel the surrounding nature engulf her with its energies.
Much more energetic now she tried to socialize with the others attempting a few small talks with bleak results then again what do you talk about with a group of people like this? Nevertheless, in her eyes this trip started of good. The exception being Balton and the substance he had given her, that stuff still lingered as a hangover the day after. While drugs were a part of the druid's path as well it was rarely used beyond magical or medicinal enhancements. And this man was clearly hooked on the stuff.

As they entered wildlands Erin became a lot more focused on her surroundings blocking out the negative energies that haunted the place. In a way, she wasn't fully ready to be here as her spiritual training was still ongoing and this place was like asking to get possessed or caught in dark emotions. Still with a small charm coldly clinging to the skin on her chest she felt that it wouldn't be too big a risk.

A few days in the travel they encountered the remains of the latest caravan and the big bulky man managed to surprise their party. Erin remained in the backdrop of the group though his scroll made her realize that if it came to action she would have to step up front to take the brunt of that scrolls power. She shuddered in relief when he turned out to be no enemy though neither ally either.
What to do this group she had never fought with before nor did she know much about their combat style. Erin was hesitant to act as the scenario in front of her escalated.

Yet there was need to act that she realized and called upon the elemental energies. Focusing on earth and life energies to her command grass and rocks beneath the bandit's feet suddenly became a source of annoyance and distraction as they snared and stumbled their feet. Hopefully this would allow the others to quickly deal with them.

 

[Sir Salty]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He was back in his own gear, which felt more comfortable. Though not something for these long distance walks that felt like they were prepping for something. Except that wasn't necessarily a complaint, more like a thought to amuse himself. He tried his best to stick to the aforementioned shadows created by the group. As his job had always been not to be noticed.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]So, when the bandits sprung an attack on him. He was not surprised. But there was nowhere to go. Most of the land was flat and there was nothing to duck behind. There were archers, who he could have captured their line of sight, and there was bandits line of sight all focused on a central fixated point. He needed a distraction.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]And the distraction came when Coby, had created a commotion with what could be classified as a "bomb". Nuit's eyes twitched and he headed behind one of the discarded wheelbarrow carts. To lose the sight of the bandits and the archers. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He unsheathed his sword. He wouldn't use his trump card, unless he had to do so. It's why he had two crooked blades that were completely ordinary. He chose his mark. One of the bandits on the edge of their group. If he could flank them, it mean he'd be completely behind the bandit group. So that's what he intended to do.[/BCOLOR]

 

[Windstormugly]

Banquet Uneventful travel The Bandit Encounter

• 
  Balton listened while his other companions introduced themselves to the nobles and their king. Took in the nobles reactions, noting their complete disregard for him.He smiled through the squabble of words between Jackal and Klemetti, and kept himself from laughing as his companions retorted. And then Lysander went down beside them, and he could feel the power emanating from the waning king, it brought a smile to his lips to see the reactions around the room, so little they had lived.
  
  As they were left to their own devices after the party Balton went out into the city, not fully sober but enough so to plan ahead, rousing some merchant contacts and shopkeeps to invest his quarter payment in caravans headed for the western vulgo and what metals was to find.It wouldn't matter if it proved profitable or not, it was the thrill of trade that drove the peddler to spread the seeds of commerce where a mere nudge could tip it all. He quickly sold off or stored much of his peddler things, things that would be nothing but a burden on the journey ahead. And he made sure to buy a new pair of shoes, as well as oiled leather-strips to repair his old ones with. Refilling his stash of (harder to come by) alchemical agents went well, after he had bribed himself into the house of an acquainted apothecary. A last afterthought as the sun started to rise was to find some chain-mail, he usually never wore any, but then he preferred to avoid fights when neccessary. With his new companions, that would likely not be the first choice. And with less things of his trade it wouldn't weigh him down.
  
• 
  Setting out together with the others brought a strange feeling to Balton, maybe it was the lack of sleep, or the fact that he had travelled alone for more than a decade. Heh, the feeling was quickly fixed with a brown sip. Erin looked somehow miserable when he did that.
  
  What had started as a promising journey did however, if only for Balton, turn bad right at the beginning. It wasn't the company, he actually enjoyed the diverse... heh, personalities of his friends. No, the problem, was their travel-speed.
  
  Even when the others rode horses. Which he didn't after he in annoyance had jumped down from the steed he'd been given and lifted up the familiar weight on his back. He still managed to get ahead, oh sure, they might trot along making him lengthen his strait to keep up, but they as well as their riders didn't seem to have his stamina for travel. The end result was him finding himself tinkering with his alcemical instruments at every rest, and peddling with the locals after they set camp in the evening and before they broke it in the morning.
  When they left Fort Seima, the dunheim-born pirate inside him wanted blood, so slow became their speed, and they set camp simply because the sun set. It was a challenge not to drown himself in a potion high. He took to circling the group, chewing on plants and roots along the road.
  
  As they nudged on he watched with disinterest as they moved past corpse after unnatural corpse, not yet returned to the soil even though decades had passed since they died, dark magic sure made true to its name.
  As they came upon the scorchmarks once and then again and again Balton began to rise from his mental hibernation. Something was about to happen.
  
• 
  The burned caravan, with its newly dead, brought a thought of sympathy from him, "so many traders coin lost". As Benedict ushered the others to stop, the peddler put down his baggage at the far back of the others, stretching the mindless sleep from his limbs. The bear-like man soon approaching them was suspicious until Balton saw the scroll, then the man became interesting. As Benedict talked with their new acquaintance, who in the peddlers mind seemed to have the right view of the world, he could feel an itch in his hands and that feeling in his neck urging him to start disappearing.
  As he downed a mouthful of the brown the sound or more people approaching reached them. The bandits come to finish the job according to the man, Otto. He wasn't wrong.
  Shaking his head to get rid of the dizziness Balton took in the view of more than a dozen rugged bandits starting for the group, five crossbowmen in the back preparing support.
  
  Triversia brought out a blue vial, emptying it in his mouth as he pulled out his shortbow and hung a quiver with arrows on his belt and a few daggers long since in his coat.
  
  His vision leapt into painclear focus, and his mind started racing, viewing everything in ultrarapid.​
  
  
  Jeanna, rushing towards a lone bandit, her scythe hungry for blood.
  Raising an arrow.
  Henry, going for the melee.
  Pulling back the string
  Selia following Henry in the melee.
  Aiming for one of the crossbowmen.
  Renvar slightly ahead of him, ready with his sword.
  The first arrow flew. Another was pulled.
  The middle crossbowman lost in a sparkflash spawned of Coby.
  Blinking his eyes as the second arrow was aimed.
  The ground beneath the bandits feet turning mischievious, Erin made true her druid heritage.
  The second arrow loosened, and a third brought up.
  Nuit was gone, likely to sneak up on the bandits somehow.
  A smile filled Triversias face as he kept firing arrows at the crossbowmen, ready to drop it for his daggers when any of the rabble went through the gaps between his friends. His enhanced vision would spare him a second if any bolt was aimed for him.
  ​
  "Heh, I would never have stayed and fought on my own." Balton muttered under his breath.​
  
  ​

 

[Dovahkiin]

Keevah would be lying if she said the majority of her was not relieved when the party was over, and with that, all the weight of nobles' and higher-ups' scrupulous eyes off her. It was nerve-wracking, knowing a mistake as little as stepping on someone's toes could be enough to lose the court's good graces. She supposed she should be the least bit thankful for only being able to lose good graces; politics in the Western Vulgo were an arguably more dangerous game, and it would be just as easy to wind up with a knife lodged in your throat.

Still, she enjoyed her time meandering around the Voima markets. Trinkets, weapons, and other goods were all in abundance, but her eyes were quick to snag on a humble armory. Strewn across its worn wooden table were an array of armors, from chest pieces to gauntlets, made of several types of metals and leathers. A bag of coin in hand, Keevah swept her gaze over the merchandise until her attention stopped on a pair of leather boots. She glanced down at her own: beyond scuffled and damn-near riddled with holes. Time to lay them to rest, I s'pose.

She paid for the boots, returned the shopkeeper's toothy grin, and slipped the new pair on. They were far more comfortable than she was accustomed to. For the remainder of the evening, she continued on her way through the markets, and it was when she came to a toy stand that a smile quirked up the corners of her lips. A small scarecrow, stuffed to the brim with straw and dressed in rags, returned her gaze with black button eyes, and, recalling Klemetti's words from her introduction to the king, she entertained her resemblance to the toy.

Scarecrow would be as good a stage name as any.

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The next day's journey was uneventful. With all the traveling they did, she decided buying the boots was a sound choice.

As they made their way into the Eastern Wildlands, the stale stench death rode its way up Keevah's nostrils, and she wrinkled her nose. Skeletons, bare and mangled, lined the roads, shaded by the contrasting lushness the wildlands had to offer. By what remained of their features, they seemed to be the remains of elves. Keevah frowned. Left in the open to rot like trash. They were undeserving such a fate; indeed, it was difficult for Keevah to imagine anyone who deserved it.

The group came upon a group of caravan carts, scorch marks scarring the road they once journeyed on as the naked bodies of mercenaries lie motionless in the chaos' wake. Looking to Benedict, Keevah drew her bow and trailed after the man with cautious steps. Her heart lurched with the sound of his sharp gasp and her eyes scurried to find what shook him; a man, whose size far surpassed any who she had ever seen, approached the group with something akin to distaste pulling on his expression, a red-tinted scroll in hand. In the middle of Benedict and the mountain's tense exchange, heavy-footed bandits made their return, this time with intentions to lay waste the entirety of the group just as they had done with the Vulgo mercenaries.

"Gobshites," she growled beneath her breath. She broke into a sprint to take cover behind one of the carts, readying her bow. Jeanna had already begun her rampage, swinging her scythe at the bandits, with Sir Henry Udolf and Selia following suit with precise, practiced swoops of their swords. Straying on the edge of the battle, Renvar countered his opponent's advances with skill. Coby, after vomiting, channeled their focus on the archers, first attacking with a bolt before substituting for a shortsword. Erin opted for a more supportive role, using her connection to the elements to shake the bandits' confidence on their footwork. Nuit -- wait, where was he? Keevah was left to assume he'd used his stealth to get an upper hand on the bandits, while Balton downed a vial of some sort of blue liquid and rained down a storm of arrows upon the foes.

Keevah knocked an arrow, aimed at one of the archers with a squinted eye, and let it fly -- then another, and another. She had experience fighting bandits before in the Western Vulgo during her travels, but never had she encountered such a large group before. Being a part of a group with skilled warriors certainly helped.​

 

[Slade]

Jeanna's swings through, cleaving through the first bandit's head and knocking it straight off before hearing the thump of the body hitting the ground, his weapon had barely been raised. As Jeanna attempts to break through the group and aim straight towards the archers, another bandit appears from her periphery and before she can react, slams her in the shoulder with a club made from a sturdy wood. Staggering her before another bandit runs towards her head on with a rusty battle-ax. Jeanna parries him and locks weapons with the bandit, with him starring directly into her eyes with his tongue partially out with a dried crust of saliva covering the edges of his lips

"I got her here, knock the bitch out Barry!"

The Bandit with the club raises his weapon to smack Jeanna but spits out blood from his mouth and is swiftly cut down from behind from Selia and writhes on the ground briefly before dying. The surviving bandit's eyes look less lust filled as he curses out shits and fucks while still weapon locked with Jeanna.

"Help me you fucks!" He yelps frantically. "SHOOT HER! SHOOT HER!"

One the other bandits turns his head, deciding whether or not to help his comrade but his torso is halved with a single swing from Henry, who makes short work of his surprised and screaming companion behind him. It was clear that these were not the best of fighters and had not expected any real resistance. These were the ones that were sent to kill the wounded and unarmed. There was one with a bit of courage as he managed to duck under Henry next swing and deliver a punch to his jaw. Though stunned, Henry manages to kick his attacker in the leg. Making him fall backwards and twisting his ankle in the process as he yelped in pain. A fourth bandit moves in to protect his fallen comrade, with another thick wooden club, and with a hand gesture, dared Henry to fight him.

With both Udolf and Jeanna temporarily halted, a bandit slipped right through them and charged towards Renvar. Armed with a short sword, he stabbed and slashed at the interrogator only to be parried every time and with each parry he could feel the joints in his fingers and elbow ache more and more. Finally he dropped his sword and gripped his hand, gritting his yeeth from the pain. Renvar then moved in a slashed the the bandit across the chest. The man fell writhing and mewling loudly in pain as he spasmed all over the floor.

The five crossbowmen could see the flashing bolt of light come their way, but it didn't mean they could all dodge it. Four dived out of the way but the one in the center of their group was hit squarely in the chest. There wasn't even a scream as the man died instantly, his left arm and leg disintegrated and his clothes practically evaporated. The wooden bow and bolts only added fuel to the fire as the body cooked under the smoldering heat. The other crossbowmen eyes blinked and watered as they finished loading their bolts and began to aim at the group, with one aiming at Otto off to the side. But small roots from Erin's magic crept up and wrapped themselves around the archers ankles and began to pull. One, accidentally shot his bolt up in the air, one casually missed Otto, another tried to hit Jeanna but only ended up in the grass next to her foot. The only one that came close was the one who aimed his bow at Selia, but it only manage to graze her leg. Leaving a small scratch and a rip in her pants.

With all this chaos caused by Coby's sparkflash bolt. Nuit manage to sneak around the remaining bandits just fine. Approaching the one Bandit who still faced Henry. The man turned around to look at the source of the light and explosion, only to receive a quick slit to the throat. Nuit made short work of the bandit with the twisted ankle, only crawling away a few feet in an attempt to grab his weapon before being dispatched of.

With most of the group's enemies taken care of, the remaining four crossbowman began to shout at scream in the direction of Otto and Benedict, who had evidently been slaughtering the rest of the bandits. A casual look would see seven bodies scattered all around the men with three more bodies crumpled and thrown into the burned husks of the caravans. The four crossbowmen cursed and shouted at each other as they backed up slightly and began to reload their bolts quickly to take aim at the mountain of the man. That was when Triversia and Keevah unleashed their arrows.

Triversia's first shot was a dud, it hit the tree next to one of the archers heads, who now realized they were being aimed at. The next arrow from him didn't kill the archer, but grazed the side of his skull. While not a serious injury, the blood pouring out from the crossbowmen's head was profuse and he threw down his weapon and began to run into the thick forage of the woods. Before the others could protest at this retreat, the final arrow from Triversia hit an archer square in the throat and he died only after a few moments of bloodied gurgling.

The final two crossbowmen now panicked and also began to run for cover. Keevah's first arrow was a miss and hit the grass besides their running feet. The 2nd​ arrow was more successful; hitting the first sprinting man in the side and he spiraled towards the ground. Her final shot was an amazing success as it hit the last crossbowmen in the temple and pinned his head against a tree as the rest of his body dangled limply.

The only remaining bandit was the one still locked in with Jeanna, who pushed against her with all his might. Years, maybe even decades of living in these woods may not have made a person a good fighter, but it did make them strong as the muscles in his arms and back struggled and strained against the warrior. But it would end shortly, as suddenly and almost impossibly a body was thrown at him and sent him flying a few feet before landing on his ass. The body belonged to a bandit and it was Otto who threw it. His eyes looked like that of a frantic, blood thirsty hawk as it went for the kill. Benedict was behind him, estoc in hand and agape at what he just saw. The bandit barely had time to get up before Otto charged at him, effortlessly ducking under the haggard swing from the bandit's ax and with his small hatchet cleaved through the man's right leg up to the thigh and pounced on him. Pinning down the screaming, shrill bandit who had hardly processed what had just happened when Otto grabbed his hair and began to pull. Within a few seconds, the screaming had been replaced with the sounds of a gory slush as fountains of blood spewed from the man's open neck. Otto threw the head away and stood up, covered in blood and gore.

Benedict, after seeing this sight, slowly approached Otto, now more wary of their "ally" then ever.

"Thank you…" he said slowly, trying to choose his words carefully. "The crown shall compensate you for-

"I don't care for Lysander's riches!" Otto snarled back, the clear disgust of the King was evident in his tone. "I took the lower road to not be harassed, only to find this filth in my way."

Benedict nodded, deciding not to take Otto's statement at face value and not make the man's opinion of his King an issue. He gestured towards Renvar and then to the wounded bandit still agonizing at his feet.

"You left one alive? Good Job. Make him talk and see what he knows. Get rid of him then."

Otto then stared down Triversia, pointing to the woods.

"You basically scalped one of them. He's probably running back to his friends, too scared to care of he's leaving a blood trail." Benedict nodded in approval at Otto, then raised a brow.

"Why help if you don't care for the outcome?"

Otto let out a small patronizing grunt, before scratching his beard. That scroll still tucked away nicely in his belt.

"I have a mission to complete, this was supposed to be the quickest route. I do not like to be disturbed by bandit trash."

He walked away from the group to the severed head he had yanked off earlier, kicking it high in the air and straight into the dark woods beyond. With every single movement he made, his body language gave off disgust and contempt for everyone and everything.

"I want them dead for slowing me down."

 

[Grothnor]

Renvar nodded to Sir Benedict's command. He sheathed his sword and seized his prisoner by the shirt, dragging him to a nearby tree. He was mildly disappointed nobody else left any alive for questioning, but accepted that it wasn't exactly practical for someone in a life-or-death struggle to keep their foe alive and unharmed. He sighed as he heaved the bandit against the tree, giving him a punch to the face to quell any lingering resistance. I'd prefer to take my time, especially with only one prisoner, but the boss ordered quick and dirty, so we're doing that today.

Renvar squatted in front of his prisoner. He drew his dagger and casually waved it in the bandit's face. "Now, you already know what I can do, so I'll cut to the chase, friend. You are going to tell me everything you know..." He twirled the dagger in his hand and pricked the bandit's thigh, just above the knee. "...or I'll dissect you piece by piece. Starting with your kneecaps." He slowly slid the blade into the bandit's flesh, gently twisting and applying his powers to punctuate his threat. "If you're having trouble thinking right now, I can give you some ideas of where to start. How about how many of you there are? Or maybe, where your camp is? Ah, here's a juicy one: who you're working for?" Renvar had already pieced together from the bandits' lackluster gear that they were hired by a third party, one that kept them on a tight leash, otherwise the bandits would be using the pilfered weapons. "Take your time. I have all day."

 

[Tempest]

Coby takes a trembling breath in the wake of the fight, mouth still tasting of bile. They look uncertainly between everyone... and stops upon Renvar, dragging someone off. Their stomach lurches and they close their eyes, directing their attention elsewhere and just idly listening to the group around them. Their hands drift along to their belt, taking hold of their waterskin and tips back their helmet enough to begin rinsing their mouth. This area was unbearable. The very air had an oppressive, cloying sense to it. If the stale scent of burnt flesh, now mingling with the chemical fire scorching their own victim, was not enough, there was stagnant death and decay both chill and clammy upon the flesh and in the lungs.

They spit their mouth rinse and look up at Otto as he mentions an arrow that had scored one of the bandits and their retreat. Coby's flesh crawls at the looming forest, vivid images coming to mind at what must be within their depths if the roadside view was so bad. They look to their archers... Balton and Keevah... and draws up their words from the banquet, their introductions. They snort, capping their water. "Got it," Coby mutters to Otto and Benedict with a nod before picking up their shortsword once more. Moving to the forest where the archers had been, Coby moves carefully along, searching for the trail of blood and footprints along the soft leaf-strewn floor.

The West Vulgan occultist stops short as they come across the spot where there was a scattering of footprints embedded in the substrate. Their eyes follow across the intermingled paths, following their story along what they had only recently witnessed. The many dragged steps leading towards them from within the forest... where they sank in and became more sobered at the treeline... The kicked up leaves and soil where they surged forward, dived away... Coby rubs their neck, stepping between their marks and further into the forest. The path of their fleeing assailant was not hard to spy... They were bleeding profusely, splattering their life along the path that their hurried flight already churned up. Coby looses a sharp whistle and raises their arm, flagging down the group for when they were ready to follow.

 

[gamer5]

With the battle over Jeanna was a bit sated but the poor fight that the bandits put meant that is was far from enough for her battle-junkie and blood-thirsty personality which she voiced without a reservation:"Fuck. Fucking to easy. Bitchy pussies of rotten drunkard bandits. Was a shitty amount of fun. Calling them filth is insulting filth. Trash can do better then this. While she continued to insult the now mostly dead bandits she also wasted no time to procure a cloth from somewhere and slowly wipe off the blood from her scythe.

Finally when she was done with cleaning her scythe, she came up Renvar and his victim and asked: "Need a hand there? I haven't had enough fun in this poor excuse for a battle and feel like letting a bit more blood and pain into the world. I always wanted to try skinning someone alive with my scythe or try seeing how far can human bones bend and flex." As she said those words she waved scythe left and right in a reaping motion with a large and almost inhuman smile on her face.

@Grothnor

 

[Grothnor]

Renvar was initially irked by the interruption, but realized it was an inherent hazard of the 'quick and dirty' method. He was, after all, doing little more than bullying, and he figured having help wouldn't hurt. Even though this is what I'm here for, circumstances such as these are not where my talents shine. He looked back at Jeanna and gave a conspiratory wink before turning back to their screaming prisoner. "Not interested in talking yet, huh? Maybe I'll let my compatriot have a turn. I'll admit, her methods aren't as refined as mine, but she could use the practice." He released the pain magic and let the man catch his breath.

 

[Silvir]

She looked away from the battlefield. Combat in it self did not bother her. Nor did killing in self defence, but this was.
Erin did not enjoy killing unless it was necessary and these men had not stood a chance against their onslaught.
Yes they had done bad things horrible possibly but that still didn't remove the bad feeling she felt from seeing that or hearing the interogated man. The girl closed her eyes trying to shut out the screams when there was silence and then the murmur of voices from where they held him.
Breathing out she spoke out not really directed to anyone particular. "We really need to work on our teamwork i don't want to hurt anyone by accident in the future"

 

[Rae]

Selia had moved quickly to the next bandit after the first died at her hands, only to find that the rest of their company had made quick work of the rest. The few left in those final moments were just as swiftly cut down, one in a particularly brutal way by their new "friend." She wiped the blood off her sword before sheathing it, her eyes following movement that the others could not see. Black wisps, incorporeal and invisible to the naked eye, had been ripped from their bodies before dissipating altogether. She knew not whether they had gone to a form of Hell or simply ceased to exist, but it was the easiest way to tell that--save their hostage--their enemies lay dead. She wrinkled her nose only slightly at the smell of body odor and alcohol, the heat of the battle having been enough to mask it. The metallic scent of blood had little effect on her, as she was more than used to it, but she could easily do without the foul odor of unwashed bandits.

As she took a step forward, a slight pain jabbed at her leg. Selia looked down, her head cocking to the side as she looked at the slight scratch. It was hardly serious, and a simple bandage would suffice to protect from infection. It was a shame about her pants, however, as she had spent a fair deal of money on them. She'd have to see if one of her companions knew how to sew, or she'd figure it out herself. The screams from their new prisoner were somewhat bemusing. Although Selia rarely cared one way or the other about someone's wellbeing, she found it rather entertaining to see Renvar at work. Moreso because she got to see the distinct changes in the Sight caused by the agony. Without the old man, she had only her new experiences to learn from, and this was certainly a fascinating experience indeed.

She glanced at Erin, the girl who mentioned something about teamwork. Despite herself, Selia rolled her eyes but decided not to say anything on the matter. She could tell, to an extent, that the girl had a distaste for the scene around her. It was naive, at best, to think that their journey would not be fueled by bloodshed and vengeance. That was, after all, the heart of their quest.

 

[Dovahkiin]

COPOST WITH @Sir Salty

To some killing was a sin, that could not be washed even with the holy waters of some miracle making god. To him life and death, specifically to kill others was no longer a point of interest. Or a point of thought.

An instinct. Not a thought. Not morality. And not something to speak about specifically. It is and it isn't. Like any point of rational consideration.

He stood from the blood filled soiled. Seemed someone else was doing the interrogating. Fine that was not his job. Never was. Instead he scanned the empty fields. Cautiously guarded, but also cautiously not nearly as aware as when he was on the adrenaline of battle.

And Nuit didn't battle. He was an opportunist. Not a soldier or fighter. That was the job of the meat shields. Who all ended up dying early in their lives because they took the blows those who couldn't.

While he would not stay too long in a battle. Not out of cowardice. Simply because he chose the rational choice. A contract wasn't always worth losing ones life over. But knights never understood that.

He sheathed his swords, when he finally decided it was clear. In moments like this anonymity was a double edge sword. He'd not allow these people to see his face. If they came out of this mission with their lives, then he not need authorities who once were his allies, now foes trying to capture him.

But he desired to take off his helm.

Keevah released a breath -- the first, it felt, since the skirmish began. White-knuckled grip on her bow, her gaze swept over what was left of the bandits as she did her best to side-step them, eyes keen to pin themselves on anything Keevah could scavenge from their corpses. Looting from the dead, admittedly, may not have the most sensitive of practices, but when it came to fiddling through the pockets of bastards like these, standing on ceremony seemed a waste.

An arrow lodged in the dirt was the first useful thing she managed to find. One of her own it seemed, from its blue fletching, missed its mark entirely, and she was quick to yank it from the earth. Keevah lifted the arrow to inspect the damage; a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips. It was still usable, at the very least, and that was enough to warrant sticking it back in her quiver with the others.

Keevah turned her head to the group and it seemed everyone made it through the bandits just fine, Renvar interrogating one of the sods unfortunate enough to live. When her eyes found Nuit, she approached, mindful of stepping in the blood.

"Ah, there you are," she began, tucking her bow back into the holster on her back. Pausing, Keevah tilted her head to the side, studying. Her brows pinched together. "You alright?"

Of course she couldn't see him smile because his face was hidden behind a mask. He didn't quite trust nor guarantee that the others wouldn't try to remember the face behind the mask. Relaxing, he merely stepped away from blooded soil with a graceful, cat-like steps.

"Shouldn't I be asking you that question?" Nuit managed to step in front of her, though his whole suit seemed to dance around her as he moved around her.

"Isn't this your first time, truly painted in bloodied battle?" Nuit asked her.

The man now wasn't the same man at the banquet. That man was cutoff. He didn't allow himself relax or jest in these times. They had no merit, yet he sighed and playfully responded with, "If only I could trust this justice brigade, so I may take off my helm? Ah, but then this would be also the first time you saw the real me. Wouldn't it?"

Keevah snorted a laugh. "You mean there's a face under there?" she jested softly, grin half-cocked. Her smile dropped a bit before she shook her head, her attention snapping to the corpses strewn across the landscape, blanketing the ground in crimson. Something akin to distant contempt yanked on her upper lip. "It's not so different than the ambushes the bandits would have back on the roads between taverns," she said. "Just... a lot more of them." She turned her head to the interrogator, then tipped her chin toward him. "And if he gets anywhere, we'll be knee-deep in bandit blood by the end of this."

Keevah's gaze lingered for a moment. Her eyes drifted over to the rest of the crew, and, redirecting her gaze to Nuit, she pursed her lips. A beat of silence passed before she spoke again, her voice hushed and bereft of its usual light-heartedness. "They can be trusted, you know." One brow arched, her eyes snapped to their group mates. "They're here to stop whatever's going on, same as us."

Nuit shifted his attention to the interrogator. His own instincts told him something was afoot, but he was not going to address his suspicions right now. Alert and aware, perhaps ready for more. He finally turned to Keevah.

"My concerns are not for the current," Nuit paused, "But for the future. We may be allies now, but we may not be allies if we live." And that was a very big if, wasn't it?

Nuit didn't trust it. His own suspicion and paranoia of those around here didn't make him comfortable. Nuit's attention was taken away, sharply, as Jenna was making a ruckus. With his helm on he could easily roll his eyes without anyone seeing it.

Little miss princess wasn't she?

Nuit took a second, his own hesitation wasn't like him. Though past experience had coloured his perception of people.

"You better be right about this," he said taking off his helm, "I trust, at least your judgment."

Giving Nuit's shoulder a few good pats, Keevah grinned. "That's the spirit."

Veiled behind the blithe, impish demeanor, nervousness rattled Keevah's easiness; knowing the man for as long as she had -- years -- only to have him reveal his true face for the first time felt momentous. In some sense, it called for a shift in the dynamics of their relationship. Knowing, trusting, and caring for someone whose face Keevah had never known felt more strange the more she thought about, which, at this point, became a frequent phenomenon. But knowing he trusted her enough to reveal the vulnerability of his bare face meant more. Much more.

Chestnut hair framed the angles of his face, and her eyes met his blue-grey ones with an amount of tenderness.

It was like meeting him for the first time.

A soft smile graced her lips. "There you are."

Nuit ran his fingers through his chestnut hair and took a second. It felt odd. Anonymity was his defense. It was the wall he kept up, in fear of putting a name to infamy. He didn't like being exposed. Though it was the first time he was staring at Keevah with his own face.

He had been so many men. So many stories behind anonymity. That it felt like the first time they met. Which was strange because it wasn't the first time, nor the second, or the third time. Yet, she never knew him, till now.

His blue, gray irises took her in. Some would question Nuit's passion for this woman. As she was not a traditional looker, like some noble girl sucking on the tit of her father's wealth. Yet, where others did not see anything. He saw music. Which filled in so much for him.

Nuit was not the type of person to respect feeling. Nor honor it. She, however, was making him break all of his own rules and his own natural instincts. She broke down walls. He nervously looked away, and instead he pretended to take in an open field. It wasn't as awe inspiring to him, but he tried to remain vulnerably cool in this moment.

"So there you have it, here I am," Nuit responded slowly, "This is the first time we have met like this. Strange, isn't it?"

"It's..." Lovely. On their own volition, her lungs sucked in a quiet breath. "Yes. Strange," she managed. Though his gaze left hers, Keevah's eyes didn't dare stray from the unmasked man in front of her. A stranger to the eyes, a cherished companion to the heart.

Nuit took a moment, but then he laughed.

"I should probably take you on nicer dates," he joked.

He always took her on renegade, vigilantism, on rooftops, stowed away picking locks. Or in the current scenario, court intrigue that left them being mocked by pompous nobility. And now they were standing on an open field, with blood soaked soil, after the death of a few bandits.

A laugh bubbled from her throat, and she couldn't help but give Nuit a toothy grin. "I'm sure we'll find time between killing bandits and... killing bandits."

Ah, right. Dead bandits. Everywhere. Once again, she was reminded of where they were -- standing beside the carnage wrought by both their group and the now lifeless attackers -- and Keevah bore a quiet breath. Her fingers absently fidgeted with one of the leather straps of her armor as her thoughts wandered, but before they could drift too far, her mouth opened.

"Thank you," she blurted, and she scrambled to find the right words to fit her meaning. "For this. I know trusting doesn't come easy to you."

"If we're lucky we'll kill a pirate, different kind of bandit," he joked with a smile.

He simply stared at her. Was this the time to desire one of her songs? Instead he stayed locked onto her gaze. How was he suppose to react in these situations? He was starting to recognize this wasn't very romantic.

Her thank you pierced him, made his heart flutter. He stepped for reaching out his hand at first, it looked at first the he was going to try and brush her hair out of her eyes. Or something. Instead he simply showed her a smooth pebble.

"Found it on the ground, have it," he told her.

She clamped her mouth shut to suppress a laugh. Taking the stone from his hand, she dipped her head in thanks; she felt the pressure in her throat grow the longer she held the laugh back, and she tried her best to swallow it. "I've been, ah. Looking for one of these," she choked out. Slipping the pebble into her satchel, she hitched a thumb over her shoulder. "Whaddya' say we head back to the others?"

 

[Windstormugly]

Letting loose the third arrow there were suddenly no more bandits left in need of wodden shafts out of their necks. And those few left were, dead, heh. His companions weren't the usual rabble after all. A few leaves rustled in the direction of his escaped prey's path, maybe he should pursue, but just standing there and letting his brain sort through the overabundant stimuli was quite pleasant.
Aand then the big Otto mentioned his grazing hit, there was the headache, heh.

Turning down toward his baggage, the peddler stuffed his bow and its arrows away, checking a few straps he straightened up again, what were the others doing?
Renvar and Jeanna had fun interrogating one of the bandits, poor fellow, maybe they'd get something usefull out of him. But Balton was more inclined to simply continue off-road, heh, he wasn't alone anymore. Coby had apparently found the trail of the runaway, yeah that'd do.

"Me and Coby will better find that deer then, no point in all of us bumbling through the forest though, it won't take long." he said. A smile aimed at Benedict. His head turned slightly towards their druid as she let her opinion into the air. "Truly a point to consider, but we weren't too shabby this time hm?" The headache was getting worse by the second, Balton idly noted a few motes of light that shouldn't be there, it felt almost nostalgic, he could remember times when he had been in the blue for days.

Stepping alongside Coby the peddler unsheated two daggers from his coat along with a green vial, though he didn't take it, using it prematurely would be a waste.
"Let's hurry shall we?"

 

[Slade]

The muffled screams and mewls coming from the bandit only became more unnerving when Jeanna interjected. Benedict folded his arms and looked down, concentrating on the information that was about to poor out of the pathetic wretch's mouth. Those who gandered at Otto would notice his eyes now narrow and keen like a hawk as he zoned in on the bandit, perhaps to confirm his own mysterious suspicions.

"I-I don't exactly how many there are" he choked in between tears "we keep losing and having more replace them s-so we don't bother keeping track. I think we have about 50 men right now."

"Bullshit" Otto interrupted "There is no way 50 idiots with wooden clubs could take on trained Eastern Vulgan mercs."

"It's true I swear!" he cried "I-its our boss, Zeke, he's a m-m-mage or something. Even went to one of those fancy schools in the Eastern Vulgo." He looked up to Renvar and Jeanna "He's got some weird fire magic, it don't move like you think it would. It's w-wriggles around like a worm, I dunno how he does it. He don't talk about his magic. He would set some kinda trap where it would spring up on the caravans and burn most of them, then we would-

"Go down and slit their throats while they were burning." Benedict said with a tone of disgust "miserable cowards"

The bandit shifted uncomfortably against the tree. "We get to keep all the gold, but Zeke had some arrangement set up with people from Segell City. For a couple of months I saw some guy with long black hair and one of them cloaks a real wizard wears taking the weapons. But he got replaced with this other guy a few months ago" Renvar could tell that the bandit was telling the truth, utterly terrified of the torture that would await him. But what he also noticed was that this bandit was far more fearful of this "other guy" than he ever could be of their group.

"He was really mean and scary. At first we all made fun o' him because he came with no weapon or any guards. Some of us tried to rough him up and he killed 'em all with his bare hands." Now Otto was paying close attention as his scowl became more deeply carved into his face. "He always had this sneer, the kinda look you give to a gal at a pub or something, but it was at all of us. Zeke was real polite around him.

"What did he look like?" asked Otto, though it seemed he already knew the answer.

"uh-uh-uh he was real pretty. Like a girl. No um, beard. Well he would have been pretty if he didn' t have that awful look on him all the time. Short blonde hair, like a military cut or something."

It was at this point that Selia took notice of Otto's general appearance. Like Shay before at the banquet, his shadow radically stood out from the others. Though unlike Shay, it was clear there was nothing else interfering with the man's aura. But his own could only be described as a violent ocean. The shadow waved and rumbled about consuming and crashing into itself, spurting out and holding back the mass of energy held within. It was like the lid of a pot barely containing the boiling, overflowing water. Otto grinded his teeth at the unknown man's description as he casually walked over to the bandit.

"You can die now."

Before Benedict could protest and before anyone else could stop him, Otto raised his foot into the shrieking, screaming man and smashed it into his face. The sound the the skull flattening and cracking and the mushy schlops of the meat and brains pouring from the newly created orifices were sickening to say the very least but it never once deterred Otto. It was becoming more and more obvious to the rest of the group that their new "friend" had no qualms about killing people both brutally and cruelly. He placed the offending foot on the chest of the now practically headless bandit and wiped the gore off the bottom of his boot.

"Why did you do that?!" Benedict yelled "He still hadn't told us where the camp was!"

"No need to" He said as he pointed to Coby off in the distance "It seems you have a decent tracker among you. Just follow the idiot fleeing for the safety of his nest and you'll find the eggs"

Benedict was quick to open his mouth and protest when he heard Balton cut him off. He could only sigh in response, he had handpicked this group, the least he could do was put his faith in them. He nodded to Balton and gestured him to go with Coby.

"Let her lead though, you don't look your best at the moment" Benedict warned to Balton, who had briefly noticed that Balton was looking a little off after the encounter.

"Still, we're incredibly outnumbered, not counting you there are only ten of us here." Benedict said, turning back to face Otto.

"You have the advantage of the woods. You can move about while they'll be too scared to leave the safety of their base. Plus you have me"


"Are you cocky enough to think you can take on 50 men?"

"Yes. You also made the mistake of calling them "men". These are thieves, not fighters."

"What about their leader, the mage?"


"Any mage of actual talent wouldn't be leading bandits and squatting in a forest.

Benedict nodded and finally acquiesced. He was beginning to wonder who was really leading his team. Still he turned to the rest of the them and gestured to follow Coby and Balton. He took another look at the hapless bandit and grimaced at the gory display of brute force.

"Did you really have to kill him like that? he asked Otto "Why not a sword or an axe?"

"It doesn't matter how a person dies. Just as long as they die."
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Coby and Triversia tracked the fleeing bandit for two hours, making sure to not give their position away to the scampering outlaw. Though they were fairly certain that even if they did slip up that would only have made their target run even faster towards the base. The rest of the group followed as quietly as they could a couple dozen yards behind, pausing their movements every once in a while until Coby and Triversia gave the signal to start moving again. It wasn't an uncommon sight to see splashes of blood stain the bark of a tree or the green on some shrubbery. A sign that the bandit's wound was still fresh and raw.

The forest itself to the more magically or spiritually inclined felt corrupted, but not in the colloquial term of evil and plagues. The forest instead seemed worn out, tired and lacking in the vibrant energy that once kept the Goblins and Bandits from claiming these lands almost entirely as theirs. Still small pockets of its once great majesty showed occasionally when a great beam of warm sunlight managed to penetrate the thick foliage and reach the forest floor where some woodland critter might flatten out and take a sun bath.

Still the reminders of the past were still there, though not in such quantities as seen on the road. Every now and again someone in the group would look up and seen a skeleton tangled in the branches high above, or down below with them crushed and buried under some fallen log. The most disturbing sight though was the elf that had been nailed to a tree. Their arms had been pulled back behind them and wrapped around the trunk of a tree with their wrists and ankles nailed. The decaying rags of its clothes was the only thing keeping the skeleton from falling apart. Luckily they only saw such a sight once.

Another lucky thing was that they never ran into Goblins, though one or two members of the party swore they saw or heard something brush against the bushes and skitter away. Whether it was just an animal or an actual Goblin none could tell. The lack of Goblins was primarily attributed to both Coby and Triversia, both of whom with experience in dangerous forests could almost instinctively tell when they could have accidentally wandered into Goblin territory.

By the time they saw the smoke from the bandit camp, the sun was practically gone and night was quickly befalling them. The two scouts could see that the camp was built around a large cavern that seem to jut up from the rest of the woods and descend underground. The bandits had taken the near infinite amount of timber that was available and built around the cavern entrance which looked to be their center of operations. Tents and small, one room ramshackle buildings littered the area as well as two or three watch-posts for spotting anyone advancing and for shooting them down with crossbows if need be. Luckily, the watch-post near Triversia and Coby was unoccupied for some reason and they could have advance further if they wished. But Coby hesitated, she felt there was some trap waiting for them to spring if they advanced further. But as she looked around, there was no thin line of string waiting to be tripped over, no bear trap, no anything. It seemed they never expected anyone to invade their little base. And yet to Coby, something seemed wrong, something in her gut said that if they pushed in they would instantly regret it.

They suddenly heard yelling coming from the camp. As they looked to the small campfire that had been made, they saw a group of around three bandits surrounding another bandit, the very same one that they had been tracking, stilling holding back the bleeding from his head with his hand as well as holding back his tears as another man opposite of him yelled at him. Though this one looked much different from the others. He was dressed in a mossy green robe with long greasy white hair and a patchy white beard with a raggedy brown fur vest. The most peculiar thing about him though was two medium sized metallic vases, strapped around either side of his waist.

"YOU IDIOT!" he shouted "HOW DID THIS HAPPEN!"

"I'm sorry boss..." the man sniveled "they didn't look that tough but there was this big one and he was butchering 'em all. I only managed to get away."

The man, which Coby and Triversia figured out was Zeke, their leader, slapped the man right where his head wound was and the man double over in pain. Crying profusely.

"Fucking Dumbass! How nice of you to lead a bloodtrail for them right here." He then began jumping on the bandit and kicking him in the head before being pulled off by the other three.

"Get this disgrace out of my sigh-" he paused for a moment before viciously smiling, turning to one of the other men. "When was the last time we fed Bull Daddy?"

"'bout two days ago we bagged him a doe."

"Oh he must be awfully hungry" he said coyly as he knelt over the wounded bandit and ground his moaning face against the dirt. "Feed this fucker to him." The poor wounded bandit, barely conscious of what was happening was picked up by his arms and dragged into the cavern below. Zeke turned and picked up a pot and a pan from the fireplace and began to bang on it. Stirring the other from the tents and small rooms out of their light slumber.

"We might have some company tonight! So get ready! I want crossbows on the tower!" he shrieked.

Meanwhile, Benedict and the rest of the group and slowly crept up behind Triversia and Coby and slowly pointed to Zeke.

"We need him alive and able to speak to Renvar, so nothing lethal around him" He outstretched his arms and pulled Coby, Keevah and Triversia towards him.

Selia sees a shadow. Something Slimy and oozing crawling towards them​

"You are my archers. Scattered and shoot from the protection of the woods, keep the rest of us protected and provide support where you can. You should use those specialized bolts of your Coby, it'll keep them frantic and too scared to fight."

Could be an animal. Like a large slug may....its too large to be a slug... or an animal​

"Erin, I'll need you to work your magic at your absolute best. Tripping them and slowing them down works, but we're going to need more lethal approaches. Stick with the trees like the rest of them."
​

What is it? Was it getting closer? She couldn't tell.
​

"Nuit, I'll need you to sneak around and cause as much damage as you can. Slit some throats then run back into the woods. It'll be dangerous because other than our archers, you'll have no one to back you up.
​

It looked like it was expanding. It's shadow was wonderfully compacted and structured despite being so oozy.
​

"Sten, Henry, Jeanna and Selia, you're our cleanup. Any that survive the arrows, the daggers or magic. Kill them. You'll have me and Otto as your backup...Where did Otto go?"
​

At the last second, Coby saw it too.​

Out of the bushes something blackish and transparent leaps out and attaches itself to Benedict's back, covering most of his armor. Coby smelled it and instantly knew what it was. Even though her nose said one thing, her eyes couldn't believe it.

It was oil.

"FOUND YOU!" screamed Zeke as he pointed towards the group's direction. "GET ON THOSE WATCHTOWERS AND SHOOT THEM!" He rolled up his sleeves, revealing grimy hands with inch long fingernails. He smiled and for a brief moment closed his eyes.

"burn"

The flash of light was brief as the oil ignited on Benedict's back. The oil was surprisingly little as it burned away quickly and luckily it had scolded only Benedict's armor and not much of his skin.

...But he was still unconscious.

Quickly a horde of bandits appeared from behind the cavern, brandishing all sorts of weapons from sabers, to clubs and spears to even a few rusty war-hammers and great-swords. To count them would take too much time. The crossbowmen were beginning to climb the ladders up to the watchtowers and a few of them were even climbing to the top of the rocky cavern. Trying to get as much of a vantage point as possible.

Two managed to quickly get up to the Cavern top but were suddenly pulled down by an unseen hand and thrown down. Breaking their necks. Zeke and his horde of bandits didn't notice as with a twist of his hand more oil poured from his vases and spun slowly into his hand. The bandits began to walk quickly towards the group and the Crossbowmen had gotten into the watch-towers. Three for each of the three towers and they all pointed their weapons at the group. Still none of them noticed as a huge figure of a man, almost seven feet in height with a small hatchet in his hand, climbed up the cavern and looked down at the small army in disgust.

Then he jumped down on top of them, and everything broke out into pandemonium of kicked up dirt and a few flying bodies. The only sound that was louder then the sounds of the fighting was Zeke suddenly panicking and shrieking. Many of the crossbowman turned and watched in stunned horror at the carnage before them, but a few still took aim at the group.

"FIGHT OR DIE!" Otto yelled as blood began to splattered into his beard and hair.


​

 

[gamer5]

Before Jeanna could react to the sudden attack the group already lost their leader and someone needed to take the reins. Unfortunately Jeanna had little training or experience commanding, but years of fighting and warring left her with a calm mind and enough knowledge and good enough battle sense to give out a few quick instructions and remarks after swearing out her mind: "Oh bull-fucking-shit. Renvar take Benedict and hide somewhere nearby. I suggest we hold in these woods, follow the original plan and do our worst. Erin could you perhaps make some obstacles for the bandits by bringing down some of the trees? What do you say Sir Henry? I am not really a commander but I think it is a sound plan."

While she waited for a reply Jeanna was already looking over the bandit camp, spotting paths and covers that one could use while advancing deeper into it while cursing herself for not pocketing out a bit and buying a scroll or two back in the city. But nothing could be done now and all that she could do was to see what the group will do and if it falls apart then simply do this on her own or with those that were still able and willing to fight...

 

[Tempest]

Coby's eyes dart around quickly, trying to take in too many details all at once, but their mind screamed out about one: oil. The oil that sprung and struck out like deadly vipers before they ignited. The swarm of bandits were coming, and there was so many words being shouted out. Benedicts instructions tangled in their mind with Jeanna's cacophony of words. The assassin begins to hyperventilate before snagging their rope dart and tearing it from its snap catch. The coil of rope falls to the ground as they hold the dart before throwing it at full force up into a tree. The anchor bites deep into the tree and Coby leaps up, grabbing the rope firmly and begins to lift their body, inverting and reverting their body along the rope Hocks style to quickly gain altitude.

Reaching a high point from the ground, dangling at an angle by their legs, Coby wraps their legs in the rope in a catch cradle and surveys the battle. The mage Zeke stood out as he juggled oil with his hands which clung heavy to the air. Coby's eyes rove over him before fixating upon the iron drums at his hips. They lick their lips behind their mask before holding out their wrist, aiming for the mouth of one and firing a sparkflash bolt. Their mouth spreads behind the mask as they loose a whispered, "Boom."

 

[Grothnor]

Renvar leapt back in surprise when Otto repeatedly brought his boot down upon the bandit's face. "Well." He said, wiping blood and flecks of gore off his face and clothing, "That was... fitting, I suppose. A quick and dirty execution for a quick and dirty interrogation." Renvar tried to play it off casually, but he was rattled more that he cared to admit by Otto's casual brutality. He had made it blatantly apparent that once someone was more hindrance than help, he'd have as many qualms killing them as one would have squashing a bug. Renvar dreaded the moment where their party proved no more use to him. He'd fit in perfectly in the new God-King's regime. For that reason alone I can loathe him.

Renvar was unsurprised that they were able to track the last bandit so well. In his experience. head wounds tended to bleed a lot, even if they were shallow. Stumbling across the crucified Elf skeleton brought a faint smirk to the torturer's face. How quaint, though I must admit I give the orcs credit for efficiency, what with all the suitable crucifix-posts around. Though aside from that incident, the tracking progressed uneventfully.

Then the found the bandit camp and as they began planning, everything went to shit. Following Jeanna's commands, Renvar took Benedict by the shoulders and dragged him away from the fighting as best he could, shutting out whatever amount he was irked at being called by his real name. He briefly assessed the damage to Benedict before concluding he had merely been knocked unconscious. "Sorry boss," he said, building up his pain magic into his thumb, "But this is gonna hurt...." He jammed it in between the mans eyes, hoping to jolt the man back to consciousness.

 

[Silvir]

It was hard to keep down the rations from earlier when they ended the prisoners life. Erin looked away from it all mentally pulling herself away from it and partly from the group. Of course the girl had been trough some fighting before even against other humans. But this brutality was new to her. New and disgusting. With a face shifting in colour from time to time she followed the others quietly to the bandit camp. Feelings in turmoil from before distracted from the invasion of negative energies of the forest around her.
So when the surprise strike came. completely shocked the girl reacted by a will not fully her own, taking two steps forward as sickly green energy flowed trough her eyes and down out to her hands as she put them to the ground.

A breathing sigh could be felt, heard or maybe seen trough the trees and ground around them, followed by a moments silence before roots exploded from the ground reaching towards the bandits. Erin groaned trying to hold the power that she had lost control over, from attacking her allies. A few more seconds and it would have been to late and now she stood there stuck while draining her own energy to keep the trees from running rampant around her. A rookie mistake, a bloody rookie mistake just because some brutality. Some Druid she was loosing her cool that easily. Grandfather would rip her a new one if he saw this.

 

[BlueFlameNikku]

Henry watched on as all the events look place just after the encounter in relative silence as he wiped the blood off of his sword onto a dead bandit's cloths. For awhile his eyes would actually fall upon young Erin as he remembered during the short scuffle that she had used a kind of magic. He'd now be decently unnerved around that one as well. The knight wasn't much put off by Jeanna and Renvar getting information out of the bandit; it was work that had to be done though of course it was a fair bit too dirty for a knight perhaps.

He listened to the information that the captured bandit spewed from his lips and was anything but pleased at the knowledge of even more magic users; one of which will probably be in the main camp and uses some kind of fire magic that's even weird by apparently "normal" magical standards. Standing off away from most of the group Henry's breath quickens and he sheaths his sword just before he was afraid he'd drop it and bring attention to himself. To the hells with all of this blasted magic...a huge man with a scroll, two frickn cloaked wizards, a torturer using some horrifying pain magic and even a little girl... He'd nervously ramble off in his head. Thankfully he was brought back to reality at the sound of a big foot crushing a skull.

The knight distracted himself with other details of the coming assault in his head. Ok...ok...we don't have full surprise and they do have numbers...but the large man is right they are by no means real fighters... But they aren't what I'm worried about... Strangely enough however Sir Henry did agree with most of what Otto was saying though he wouldn't be saying that out loud anytime soon as he was worried about Sir Benedict to a point. Additionally at this point to anyone who recalled Henry earlier it is slightly off that the talkative knight would be quiet for so long especially right after a victory as small as it was.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
​

As the trap was sprung and Sir Benedict was brought unconscious Henry was startled much like other members of the party though for the separate reason of what it was that knocked him out as oil flames scorched him. Fear now gripped at the knight's face as he would be seen staring blankly with wide shaking eyes at the mage known as Zeke. The mass amount of tree roots coming to life and which began grabbing at people only helped in deepening Sir Henry surge of fear running up his spine. He couldn't hear the words of anyone around him as he began to imagine what happened to those caravans and Benedict happening to him. However, as Otto jumped down and began rampaging the mage that seemed to hold the focus of the knight's fear suddenly began panicking and shrieking about something that Richard wasn't afraid of...then it hit him.

That's right...he's just a man...

The knight slowly rising to his feet while drawing his longsword.

...and all men fear death...

The fear that once controlled his posture was now replaced by a faint rage. A rage that was fueled in the memory that these rats were enemies of Gyrus and enemies who had dared to harm a fellow knight of Gyrus before his very eyes. His training as a knight was now taking over as he fully took in the situation in an instant. Coby, Erin and Renvar were already at work so he moved on to everyone else with quick words mustered with as much of a commanding tone as he could muster in the moment.

"Keevah, Triversia, keep down fire on those watch towers! Support Coby's targets when you deem necessary!

"Nuit, focus your efforts on the mage, primary target! You see a chance, take it!"

"Sten, Selia, Jeanna, on me!"

With that Henry faces the battle at hand and raises his gleaming sword high above his head in the darkness of the evening and thrusts it forwards still high above as he lets out a battle cry worthy of a knight of Gyrus as it echoes through the dark woods. If the enemy is frightened from one side...make them tremble in fear from the opposite direction. With that Henry charges forward towards the fray hell bent on leading Sten, Selia, and Jeanna on a charge that would cut a bloody gash through this horde of bandits while they were caught unawares by Otto, in addition to trying to relieve some of the numbers off of their new large "friend."​

 

[Dovahkiin]

The contrast between the precious moment spent with Nuit and now was stark; adrenaline pumped through her veins too furiously for her stoicism to handle. Keevah tried to curb her hands' trembling with a white-knuckled grip on her bow, and she crept a few steps back, her eyes surveying the less than friendly bandits with their weapons drawn and readied. Stealing a tender glance at Nuit, she bore a silent exhale through her nose. Warmth fled her face as her gaze whipped back to the bandits, her expression settling into hard focus. She took an arrow between her fingers. This is bad. Bad, bad, bad.

Before she could manage to draw her string back, a root exploded from the ground to her right and rocketed toward the bandits, and as she felt the ground tremble behind her, panic sent her leaping forward. The root narrowly shot over her, chunks of dirt and grass raining down on Keevah in its wake as her heart threatened to beat straight out her chest. Scurrying back to her feet, she breathed a "shit" and watched it hurtle toward the bandits. Keevah's gaze lifted to the archers perched on the watchtowers, half of them distracted by Otto's brutality, and squinted her eyes. A hand fumbling with her satchel, she withdrew her vial of Lifescourge*​ and dipped an arrowhead in.

"Keevah, Triversia, keep down fire on those watch towers! Support Coby's targets when you deem necessary!"

With a nod of her head, she nocked her poison-tipped arrow, took aim at one of the distracted archers in the tower, and loosed. She hastened to slip the vial of poison back into her satchel before her hands fell back onto her bow, and she made a mad dash to take cover behind a tree. Chest heaving, Keevah's attention darted back to the archers in the tower, and she fired as many arrows as her calloused fingers would allow.

---

*​Lifescourge: ​A clear poison that causes a burning sensation, disorientation, convulsions, and, if enough is administered, death.