As Hobnob and his crew switched locations, an arrow had struck one of his compatriots in the leg. It did not kill him however. That was 2 wounded now. One just here, and another Gnome by the Ogre back across the bridge. They were lucky none were dead, and good thing both wounded Gnomes had been coincidentally hit in the legs. The wounded one was dragged by the others to their new location, but he seemed to still be able to hold a musket if he leaned up against a tree. Their team fired volleys that killed a few bandits, but did an even better job with distractions as Jex the Predator ripped through their flanks, chopping and slitting throats with expert precision.  

Meanwhile Zin's furious combat and Arassel's dance of death were mixed in with the maelstrom of combat around them. Arassel finished her opponent off. The man was skilled, but she found a crease in his armor through one of her feints that had him swinging wide. His kidney was subsequently pierced and he fell to the ground, bleeding and dying. Zin survived and dispatched the two men (or, incapacitated one and killed the other) and was now on the ground with a body atop him. Thankfully, the sounds and din of battle was slowly ebbing down, which allowed him to get up without fear of being attacked. The Knights held the line, and partially in thanks to the bloody swath the Mercenaries (with their element of surprise) dealt. The bandits were now in full retreat, fleeing back into the forest or down the road. 

The door to the Coach opened up to reveal a tall man, with caramel skin and a haughty look about him. He seemed to be Ra'Sheek in ethnicity, with long dark hair and bejeweled clothing. The only sounds left of the battle were Hobnob's crew's final volley, before all began to gather upon the road. 

"I deed not zink we vould survive, truth be told." Regeland the Duelist said, wiping the blood off his blade with the shirt of a fallen bandit. There were now only 8 Knights left, and 3 of them were wounded. Jex strode out of the trees, his red scales splotted with a more crimson color from the blood of his enemies. A few of the Knights held their swords up warily at the creature.

"And what prompted this act of charity?" The Lord from the carriage asked. He let the words hang in the air, then he sighed. "Forgive me. It does not do you justice for me to distrust you fine folk for coming to our aid. We very well might have been killed. Are you adventurers?"

[hr] 

Nuva's attack was powerful and precise. The door was burst open and nearly shattered, and Nuva managed to slay both guards while gaining only the merest of cuts on his arm from a wild sword blade in the right guard's last desperate attempt to save himself. Morek charged past Nuva, comically ducking under the Dark Skayleigh's swing as he barreled into the room. The Sorcerer in the center looked aghast at the intruders. Indeed, he said as much. 

"Intruders!" he cried, pointing his gnarled staff at Morek. Dark, sickly green tendrils shot out of his staff. A spell that had already been prepared for the dire circumstance of being attacked unawares. Morek ducked that too, but the energy still washed over him. He grit his teeth, but was now being severely weakened from the dark magic that seemed to be draining his considerable strength. 
"What!?" the Sorcerer cried, dismayed that his magic was working far less effectively than it should have. Most men would have shriveled up at the blast and passed on to the realm of Nar'Rog, but Morek inexorably moved forward, getting close enough to cleave his Axe to the side and embedding his blade into the Sorcerer's knee. The man cried out and fell over, clutching his ruined leg as Morek fell to his knees, himself. The Dwarf was very much alive, and as soon as the sickly energy had stopped hitting him, he seemed to be getting healthier once more. 

He did not have the strength to lift his axe again yet however, so he crawled toward the Sorcerer and grabbed his robes, lifting his huge fist to punch the man. Kayden had run through just behind Nuva at this point. "Morek!" he called, sword drawn. 
The three bandit guards left looked to one another, unsure of who to attack first until the door behind them burst open by Halbark the Dwarven Alchemist. 

In the center of the room, the body that was at the center of the blood ritual began to writhe to and fro, distorting grotesquely.  
[@rush99999][@Jbcool][@BCTheEntity][@frapet][@Fuzzybootz][@Austronaut]