Rolan had remained in the saddle for the duration of the brief skirmish, feeling it was a safe enough action with sir Garret on the move, the hulk of the man made him a living and breathing target for most ambitious archers. Instead he busied himself with mustering the riderless horses into a small cluster, backed up against a heavy thicket, with his self as the only thing between them and the fighting. [i] Gods I hope I'm doing right. [/i] He fretted in his mind, his grip tight yet relaxed on the hilt of his sword, holding it ready as a challenge to any would be contenders.

In the end he saw little of any combat, the knights quickly securing a messy yet effective victory over the ambushers, it was only until the bandits morale broke and the remainder of their foes unceremoniously attempted retreat did Rolan have to act, urging his horse forward to block some would be thieves, upon interception he could see that they had dropped their weapons in their mad rush to freedom, but this didn't stop Rolan from performing his duty. An upward arc of his blade caught one in the chest and sent him falling back to the earth, bleeding and gasping for what air he could til Rolan vaulted from his saddle and plunged the blade through the mans ribs, ending his life. The other bandit used this to his advantage, attempting to dash past and make a grab of his horses reigns, just beginning to climb into the saddle as Rolan seized his shoulder, and with a grunt, threw him into the muddy earth. Steadily he approached him as the bandit scrabbled about in the mud, looking for a foothold to stand whilst his hand closed around a heavy stone.

"Yield!" Rolan demanded hoarsely, holding his sword pointed out before him.

"O'right o'right,... I yield to ya sir." was the reply, the bandit giving up his struggle in the mud. "I'll be ye' prisoner." He added in a sullen tone.

Rolan found he was breathing quite heavily as he lowered his blade. "Don't you bloody well try anything, or I'll run you through, you hear?" He warned, stepping toward the bandits left side, while his eyes watched for any unwanted movement. "yessir." Was the bandits assent  as he lowered his head down further til he was practically kissing the mud. Clasping him by his shoulder, Rolan hoisted him to his feet, getting a better look at the fellow. He was a brute of a man with a rough face and a square jaw, his beard and hair were a wild, tangled mess that was as brown as the mud that covered him from head to toe. Rolan was just about to order him toward the rest of group when a snarl twisted the mans features, too slow was Rolan to reply as the man closed the gap, shouldering Rolans blade arm out of the way as he swung his own arm to bludgeon him with the stone.

Rolan hit the ground with a heavy thud and a loud grunt, his world a mix of pain and confusion. The earth beneath him seemed to spin out of control as he tried to focus on what had just happened, from the corner of his eye he could see the bandit fleeing toward the horses. Dizzily Rolan got to his feet, his head felt like it was on fire, and he was sure he would throw up, his sword lay somewhere off to the side forgotten, the fleeing man was all he could see as his vision steadied. With a roar of determination he went after the man, quickly catching up in all his fury as he tackled him from behind, sending both men hurtling toward the ground once more. Desperate was their struggle in ones attempt to flee and the others attempt to hold on, Rolan slowly dragging himself up the mans body so he could rain down blows on his head while firmly seated above him. He landed blow after blow with devastating effect until he bandit drove his knee into Rolans side, rolling him off the top of him and securing the position for himself, taking up the same merciless beating he was receiving just moments before. Each hit brought a new wave of pain over Rolan as he struggled beneath his opponents body, his vision growing shaky and blurred as the assault continued, in a moment of desperation Rolan was able to free the dagger he kept sheathed at his back, gripping it tightly as he plunged it into the bandits side. The bandit howled and writhed with pain atop him, so again he plunged the blade into his side, and again, and again, and again, until he howled and writhed no longer.

With great effort he pushed the dead man off him, taking a moment to recover as he lay in the mud, heaving a sigh as stared up at the blue sky above him, a peaceful haven that seemed to contrast harshly with the scene below. Gingerly he rose to his feet, his whole body an aching mess, accompanied by a splintering headache. Slowly he looked around, trying to regain his bearings, the battle seemed to be over with most of the knights gathered about their commander, hauling back what prisoners were caught, whilst at the same time one of the senior knights, Tyaethe he believed her name was, impaled herself with her own spear, continuing with whatever speech she had been giving like nothing had even happened. "I've damn well gone mad..." He reflected quietly, straining with pain as he bent down to gather his things, almost certain the weapons would merely flow through his hands like water and when he would look up the rest of the world would take on an equally surreal nature. But alas the dagger remained firm and a sense of normalcy returned to Rolans mind as he shuffled over to the horses to ensure their numbers were the same as he left them. All seemed to be accounted for and Rolan gave a small grin of satisfaction before returning to his horse, walking a few short steps before wincing at the sharp pain that arced up from his right ankle. [i] I've really done a bloody number on myself this time.[/i] He grimaced, continuing toward his horse with a limp, much to Rolans future chagrin his count of the horses moments before had been wrong. The struggle with the muddy bandit had unnerved one of the poor beasts and sent it bolting into the woods without his knowledge, luckily for Rolan the other horses hadn't followed suit atleast.