[b][h2][center]Gillian[/center][/h2][/b] Gillian had followed Tyaethe's lead when the charge had started, comfortably jogging behind the vampire as she tore into the bandits with contemptible ease. It took all of about thirty seconds before he became bored of the whole..brawl wasn't really a word. These bandits were an honest to Reon joke. [color=00aeef]"Kerfuffle."[/color] He said to himself, deciding that was the more apt phrase as he darted away from the evolving melee, only just catching a quick glimpse of something akin to sexual climax flash in the vampire woman's eyes as she spotted her next victim. ...good for her. Darting into the small labyrinth of tents (now somewhat bisected by a tree fire) Gillian found little resistance, but he'd largely accepted that was going to happen. Adding further to the slaughter was hardly going to be productive, and with Tyaethe around...he didn't really see much point into finding this Garry-mima or whatever his name. The more pressing (or atleast interesting) matter to attend to was freeing the hostages of the bandits before they were endangered further. Either from the fire or the bandits. [b]"Mayon's slick button Garric hurry up!"[/b] someone yells over the din of combat, drawing Gillian's attention as he skidded to a halt to duck behind a small stack of crates. Peering over he spied a trio of bandits, attempting to smother a small blaze that had begun to encroch on their tent. [b]"I'm trying man!"[/b] One of them whines, presumably the aforementioned Garric. [b]"This is bullshit. If those whores die Jeremiah's gonna fucking kill us..."[/b] he continues, throwing a heavy blanket over a growing patch of flame. [b]"Correction. He'll kill you. I aint fuckin' telling him."[/b] the third says, standing guard with his spear held casually to his side while his companions worked to snuff the flames before they became a problem. [b]"The fuck I got to tell him?"[/b] Garric whines back, shooting the spearman a heated glare. [b]"Cause fuck you. I'm a virgin, I got shit to live for."[/b] The spearman snarks back, smoothing back his dirty blonde hair. [b]"Cram it both of ye."[/b] The oldest among them barks, smothering the last of the blaze before wiping the sweat from his forehead. The other two go quiet as he reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small set of keys. [b]"We're movin' the three of 'em to the meetin' spot."[/b] He says, voice firm with a borrowed authority. [color=00aeef]"Actually..."[/color] Gill says, stepping out from his hiding spot and watching as the two of the three men draw their weapons. The oldest, a human with salt and pepper hair mumbled darkly to himself, though it was impossible to hear him at this distance. [color=00aeef]"I think I'll take ove-."[/color] He says, his stride towards the trio being interrupted as he threw himself to the ground, narrowly dodging a spear of ice as it flung itself from the oldest mans hand. [color=00aeef][i]"Sloppy."[/i][/color] He thinks, quickly standing to meet the other two as they charged him. The third remained back to begin his chanting again. He should have known better. The crossbowmen from earlier were clue enough that these bandits weren't without their few brighter minds. He'd written off a witch being among their ranks out of arrogance and only Parnella's panache for surprise attacks and the mans lack of aiming experience had saved him from an embarrassing death. The spearman was the first to close the gap, planting his feet firmly and thrusting. Gillian swatted the blow aside, before stepping back as Garric charged in, swiping at him with surprising speed. [color=00aeef][i]"They've got training."[/i][/color] Gillian noted, throwing an elbow that clipped Garric's shoulder and sent him into a roll before returning to his feet. Not the sort of recovery a bandit just learns through trial and error. Gillian swatted away another thrust by the spearman, who had circled to the left to cut him off from charging the witch. [color=00aeef][i]"And they're familiar enough to work as a group."[/i][/color] he thought, having to quickly draw his arms in to block another swing from the swordsmen. Normally he'd just set himself on fire and tear through them. But...the risk of setting the tents on fire and accidentally killing one of the prisoners made that not an option. As much as it pained him to admit it, and though he doubted it was an intentional manuever on the bandits part, they'd actually manage to put him into something of a bind. The spearman and swordsmen's spacing and pressure were perfect. They lacked the technique to really land a blow on him, but he couldn't really deal with one without the other attacking and diverting his attention. The witch though...that was a different problem. That spell wasn't exactly high art, even to Gillian's rather abysmal knowledge of the arcane, but it had power behind it. Looking over at the old man, it was clear that it wasn't without its draw backs. He was still chanting, carefully attempting to muster forth the energy needed to cast the spell again. So smart enough to know how to cast, but not smart enough to know how to fine tune his control. Good. That was a weak link Gillian could exploit. Gillian kept on the defensive, blocking blow after blow as the two martial bandits slowly drove him back, only occasionally swipping out at his assailants. [b]"Fuckin hell Barnaby!"[/b] The spearman yelled as his spear pinged off Gillian's arms once again. [b]"You fucking napping back there? Kill him already!"[/b] He added, stepping back as Garric rushing the knight, swinging for Gillian's neck. Gillian had to resist the urge to thank the nameless spearman for being so kind as to provide a cue, stepping back out of the blades reach and shooting his hand forward, clipping Garric across the shoulder once more and sending him into a roll towards his companion. Barnaby the witch flung his spell forward, a lance of frozen hate propelling itself towards its target...before slamming into the back of Garric, who was just popping up from the roll he'd just entered. Gillian took in the look of shock on the poor swordsmen's face as his eyes glanced down at the blossoming pain in his chest before he crumbled to his knees, the ice lance wedged between his ribs holding him aloft as his torso began to lean forward. His surprise spread to the spearman, who turned his gaze away from Gillian to shout at his remaining ally. The knight wasted no time in rushing the distracted man, his three clawed hand slamming itself through the mans throat and silence the protest before it began. Barnaby stared at the scene for a moment, his knees buckling from beneath him as the last of his mana left him. His eyes widdening as the knight before him inched closer, a demented grin spreading across his lips. [color=00aeef]"So as I was saying..."[/color] ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Escorting the prisoners to the edge of the camp was uneventful...if a bit worrying. In the tent Gillian only found three of the four supposed hostages. Bruised and perhaps a bit irritable from their rough treatment, but otherwise healthy enough to follow him to the camps perimeter. It was a boring couple of minutes, mostly consisting of the older woman reassuring the girl that they were safe now that the knights were here and no, the man covered in gore who let them out is definitely not a bad person. Gillian wanted to argue that point, if only to kill time as he watched the melee unfold before them. All in all, not a horrible showing by the baby captain for her first venture...he supposed. Admittedly by the time Gill had brought the three to safety the fight against the bandit leader had descended into an obscenely one sided dog pile. The lone male prisoner, a fine dandy of a man with a well trimmed mustache that seemed no worse for wear despite his capture, seemed somewhat amused by the whole display, asking Gillian if the Roses were always this passionate when they, quote, 'saw fit to bring low the enemies of goodliness.' Gillian really didn't have the heart to tell him that this was them exercising restraint...