"Those of us who fight best at range should use the roof and make them pay on the approach. The rest hold the doors. We turn over tables and create a barricade. But we can't stay here forever, we have to make them break and then run for it ourselves. If we tell everyone to clear out now, that should keep the soldiers at bay long enough to let us create a favorable battleground." Of course, Masef, and Qazar reminded him that this was foolish, intended to distract the troops from the roof by firing arrows at them. That would keep them from trying to even stop the taverngoers from their escape.

Masef wasn't sure about fighting it out in the middle of Bosfyrd; to him, it seemed antithetical to stand and fight like this, because that is what Brand did, but the reality was that a sharp, fast fight now might be bloody and messy for Bosfyrd, but it would allow them an opening, if they survived, to make their escape relatively unmolested in the confusion. They wouldn't be fighting a running battle, the plan was then to rout them and then make the escape while they lick their wounds.

Like all plans, it had consequences. But Loden and Varrick made their call, and Masef was, in essence, a younger brother. He started for the stairs, a bow and arrows already in hand. There was no time left for contemplation, just the battle. No time for doubt, just the enemy, his skill against theirs.

As he came through the stairs, "King's men, get out of here if you don't intend to stand and fight! This is between Brand's family and these bastards!" He dropped the accent of Daramalsh for the tones of a native, his own accent, "Get a bloody move on you lot, clear the pub!"

He didn't pause to see if there was a reaction, he was already making his sprint up the stairs, because the archers had to work fast.


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