The fight was over quickly, if it could be called a fight after all. Brand's children made short work of their adversaries and even left one yet alive for questioning. [i]We would make a very effective team of brigands...[/i] was the dawning thought that left a wry frown on Quinn's clean shaven face. One thing they all had in common was that their adoptive father had instilled in all of them a sense of duty and purpose to uphold the greater good. [i]Well most of us, anyway.[/i] The elf returned Kazahk's wink with a wary stare, never letting the drow out of his sight while the others discussed their next move. 

While the others talked, Quinn sheathed his sword and threw on his cloak, clasping the garment on at his right shoulder. Next came the weapon harness, its familiar weight and fit brought the elf a small sense of comfort. Finally, the archer crossed the room and produced a coil of hempen rope. Wordlessly, he bound the last remaining guard's wrists and ankles together, though he left enough room for the man to stumble. Quinn gave the knots a couple sharp test pulls to assess their strength then looked up to his siblings.

[b]"I agree with Lys,"[/b] he began, finally breaking his silence. [b]"The cabin would make an ideal rallying point. Father and I had a small supply cache concealed in the stump behind the house. However,"[/b] Quinn paused for a second to stand up to his full height and regard his siblings face to face. [b]"We should avoid traveling in one whole group. Perhaps go in varying directions to throw off any tails before doubling back. Then there's this one. Who gets to carry the drunkard?"[/b]

All the while, the elf's quick eyes scanned his brothers and sister, weighing their chances. They all knew Brand's methods of becoming and staying concealed. However that was before they had participated in a tavern brawl as a group. Their next move would require delicate precision.