When Reyvadin and the others arrived to the village, his suspicions were correct. That smoke came from the smoldering remains of the huts and buildings, with fairly obvious signs that someone had come by and raided this place. It was a familiar sight to Reyvadin. Many Banian villages looked like this after a seasonal raid. Most of the time, the villagers know in advance to flee if they don't think they had the manpower to hold off a raiding party. But there were plenty more villages with an established militia but less sense, thinking they could stand up against a horde of Norgard warriors. And it's always Reyvadin and his men who would come across these ruins, hunting down the army that laid wasted to their lands.

But unlike before Reyvadin was not dressed in the finest of plate, armed with a trusty poleaxe, on top of a mighty steed, with an army at his back. No, he was a ragged man armed with a stick that could barely be called a spear, in the company of criminals and low lives. It was tempting to see what sort of things might be in this village that they could salvage. Perhaps a knife that could be turned into a dagger or spearhead. Perhaps some armor from a dead militiaman. Or even better, food, because no amount of steel can save you from hunger. But there was a noise, one that Reyvadin was also unfortunately familiar with. The cries of a woman in peril.

As the group snuck closer, they would see a ghastly sight. Brigands, executing and capturing prisoners. Or rather, a prisoner. A young woman who's fate was likely going to be horrific, violent, and short. Compared to her, the bound men were at least going to die mercifully quick. As terrible as the scene was, Reyvadin steeled his resolve in the face of this atrocity. One of the first lessons he learned when he became a knight was to harden his heart against this sort of tragedy. Rape and raiding were merely tools used by all armies to bolster their own supplies and morale: even the most honest of soldiers needed physical comfort and what better way to get it than through the conquest of arms? After all, gathering slaves from conquered people was a common practice in the north. Letting your emotions get the better of you when faced with it was a quick way to share the slave's fate.

Which was why Reyvadin was barely able to concern an annoyed and tired sigh when the blonde woman, likely a madwoman, broke out from cover to "distract" the brigands. Something that as far as Reyvadin heard, [i]no one[/i] asked her to do. Certainly could've been [i]discussed[/i] considering out of everyone here, Reyvadin was the only one who was properly armed with some sort of weapon that wasn't just a pair of cuffs. But Lorcan went out to take advantage of the situation, using his strange magics to disguise himself as a tree. [b][i]"Huh, that's handy."[/i][/b] Reyvadin thought to himself as he got into position. His plan was simple: help Lorcan take out a brigand from behind, preferably by stabbing them through the neck with his spear, and taking one of their knives. He'll need to use a body as a shield considering that Reyvadin's shirt wouldn't be able to stand up against a particularly dull needle, let alone crossbow bolts. If they can get those brigands to waste their bolts shooting their allies or better, missing, that would give Reyvadin an opportunity to get a good thrust in with his spear or dagger. 

But this could only work if they manage to win the element of surprise. Hopefully that woman's shapely figure and deceptive appearance would be more than enough to convince these bandits to see with their dicks instead of their eyes, enabling the others to take advantage of their dubarchery and butcher them like the animals they are. There was [i]too much[/i] that could go wrong now, but alas. Reyvadin wasn't going to let this opportunity go to waste. [b][i]"If we survive this, I'm going to have some words with that woman."[/i][/b] The young noble thought to himself.

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Stealth Check = [url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/rolls/21825]5[/url]
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