Stepping lightly just behind his captain to make his own glance round the corner, the Dark Skayleigh considered his options. As a part-elf, he was certainly capable of a reasonable degree of quietude. Not enough to sneak up on a pair of armed guards, even unawares, but enough to remain hidden around a corner at least when needed. He could, however, move shockingly fast on his comparatively long legs, as many a dwarf and goblin had discovered to their cost... and if he bumrushed the two bandits quickly enough, he imagined that perhaps he could slay them both in one fell swoop, before they made a ruckus and drew the other thieves in the fort to their location.

Leather armour was no match for Nuva Doer's maul. Precious little was. Silently, he drew the weapon from its leather holder and hefted it in his left hand, beginning to breath just an ounce more rapidly, more heavily, in preparation for the coming exertion... then, with little warning, he charged round the corner, raising the maul at an angle next to his head as he approached. The last words of the bandits were, respectively, "What the-?" and "Oh-!", before the weapon was swung round at them, powered by a burst of khala. Their skulls were obliterated entirely in that single strike, spraying much of the area to Nuva's left with a burst of assorted gibs and destroyed leather helms. Noise was made, and it certainly wasn't what one would call quiet if any patrolling guards happened to be within earshot- shattering bone and splattering blood rarely is- but nothing like the sound that a scream for help would have produced if allowed.

And it was only after this unprompted attack, when the two corpses had fallen and Nuva was breathing just that bit more heavily, that he realised he hadn't even considered making sure the cells weren't occupied with prisoners, who might themselves scream in fear of the seven-foot being that just murdered two guards in cold blood, one arm wielding a mace and the other a massive barbed spike, and now quite covered the arterial blood from the stumps of the bandit's heads. He wondered if he even could have, given the circumstances, but even so...

"Fuck. That was stupid," Nuva muttered to himself, slightly incognisant of his surroundings for a brief moment of adrenaline and red vision (mostly from the blood). As quickly as possible, he returned the maul to its sheath, removed his mask (and placed it on one shoulder momentarily), and wiped the blood out of his eyes before returning the disguise to his face, hoping that nobody had seen the purplish skin beneath it for the short moment it was off him.

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