More bandits. Never seemed to be a shortage of them, which was lucky, because otherwise Thirodaen suspected that he'd be out of many a job. Greed and avarice, he was glad that the human realms seemed to be full of them. No that his own home had none. He wrinkled his nose at the smell of the dwarf, which was, as usual, beer and sweat. He had been brawling, and was late, and was quite obviously drunk. No more than he'd expected really.

He raised an eyebrow at their second late comer, the elf from bright wood. An elf, at least, but hardly fey. Flimsy too. Very pretty, of course, and should they ever need to seduce the enemy into submission, she would be a valuable asset, but flimsy. She wore a sword, he supposed, and he assumed that she had enough common sense that she knew how to use it, but other than that, perhaps it might be good to travel with someone who didn't smell like a sewer. The bright wood elves were...more a race of dreamers, he just hoped that this one might be weighed down in reality.

As to the plan, there was nothing to say, so why say anything? He'd never been a particularly complex planner, and most people were surprised by his bluntness when they allowed him to plan their attack. This plan seemed as good as any.