Their leader was worried, and managed to let that slip through. Not the greatest trait for the head of their little band, reflected Bryan. Oh well, he'd either learn or he wouldn't, and the wastes had a tendency to chew up, digest and shit out those who didn't pay attention to its lessons. At the very least, he'd promised himself to do his best not to let the man get himself killed. Too emotional for his own good, the kind of man Bryan was more than happy to ditch, but he was trying his hand at new outlooks. 

He spoke up when the question was put to the group.
"I say that we don't move until we know exactly how many of them there are. The more information we have on them, the better and quite frankly I'd rather not start attacking the place and find out there are actually twenty more than we thought there were."

He stepped forward up onto the sand dune, knelt down and cleared his throat before continuing.
"They're bandits, so they won't be too hard to tell apart; no uniforms or the like, so counting them [i]should[/i] be easy, gods willing. Now, way I see it, we've got a few options open to us once we're ready. One: we try and pick them off one by one from afar, as has been suggested, hopefully letting the deaths of the men outside lure those inside into our sights - probably have to work in teams for that, one sniper and one spotter and guard - or two, we attack at night, identify any sentries and eliminate them and kill any sleepers. First plan relies on them not being disciplined and stupid, not unexpected from bandits, but if not then we set ourselves a trap. Night attack might be too chance heavy if we don't get all the sentries, or kill the sleepers silently enough, or if some bastard gets up for a midnight snack whilst we butcher his mates.I can think of a third option, but I think the townsfolk want a town to come back to, and I'm not fond of wasting lamp oil, stuff's expensive."

He turned and looked at the group.
"Any thoughts?"