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How this group of incompetent fools thought they were cut out for mercenary work was beyond him. Half of them barely seemed to know how the wield the weapons they carried, and ended up promptly disarmed anyway. It was telling that the most useful contributors were a timid farmhand and a teenager. At least Esvelee and Cerric got thrashed around a bit up on their literal and figurative high horse, though the blue-skinned man seemed to find it entertaining more than anything. Jackass.

He did have a point, though; the necromancer wasn't their concern unless he continued to threaten the wagon. Loath as Ceolfric was to leave their attacker without a few new holes in his gut, they didn't have time to scour the woods for the little coward. He'd probably be doing [i]that[/i] on his own too, if their sorry performance against a few dogs was any indication.

The bandit flicked his blade harshly at the ground to shake off the coat of congealed blood and questionable ichor, but didn't sheathe it quite yet. People that sent minions to die in their stead didn't often have a death wish, but their assailant could end up overconfident now that he'd wounded an inattentive noblewoman. Granted, that was contingent upon Ceolfric still being around to pick up their slack, so he paused rather than follow Cerric to give them a chance to recover. 

[color=AA4A44]"Liadon's right, we're not here to kill some corpse-fucker. Stick with the wagon and keep an eye out,"[/color] Ceolfric announced gruffly. If their attacker wanted to raise more pets, he'd have to tip off Kyreth in the process, so they'd have ample warning if he wished to continue his assault. Otherwise, he wasn't getting paid to deal with the bastard and he wasn't going to babysit anyone that disagreed either. He barely liked their odds against entirely mundane threats, now that he'd seen the group in action.
 
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