[h2]Jordan Forthey[/h2]

	The kids were in no apparent hurry to leave, and the street remained bizarrely calm in stark contrast of the surge of rushing blood in his veins. Only when given distinct instructions did one on them speak up: [i]“The bandits took our healer. There's no one to get.”[/i] Looked barely teenage - and on a normal day, he would probably be chastised for slacking off from picking potatoes. One could only hope that these kids weren't sticking around here because their parents or older siblings were Fadewatchers... 
	Sir Yanin tore the door open, ready to act if need be, but nothing burst forth. Jordan had reflexively taken a couple steps forward, half-turning his head, white-knuckle gripping his sword, yet his master didn't draw his, but rather seemed to merely assess the situation for a second or two. 
	Jordan released a breath and the hilt of his sword, and seemed to visibly relax a little, even as he continued to check the street every couple of seconds.
	"Bandits?" he repeated, "Did any of you see what happened and how many there were, and where they went? Or if they are still in the area?" He should probably try not to ask [i]all[/i] the possible checklist of questions at once and give them time to answer. 
	Someone - a young male voice - was now pleading inside the guardhouse, seemingly with Sir Yanin who had now moved to effortlessly fill the entirety of the left half of the double door. He couldn't exactly see past him, but there were [i]definitely [/i]injured people in there. 
	"Eh, we are Fadewatchers, too, just usually in Brow's Nest, Etlon..." It probably made them as qualified as any other, since it seemed that the local Fadewatcher department was pretty much out of commission. There had to be something that could be done. If they didn't have a dedicated healer, then anyone who knew how to tie bandages in place would help. "Did- could anyone bring any supplies left behind? Or any bandages from surrounding houses with a few people who could help with tying them in place. Someone who has been a midwife, maybe? If it's reasonably safe, anyway." He was still saying too many things at once, wasn't he? 
	He sighed. "We can help you to find your healer, I hope." If said healer is alive, anyway. 

[h2]Sir Yanin Glade[/h2]

	Nothing. For a second or two, Yanin remained in the cover of the door, gaze attempting to pierce into the comparatively dim interior. Just about, he made out that nearly everyone in the room was down, and the last one had been startled off from fumbling with one of them. Two strides closer, and he was in the doorway, continuing to survey the situation as his eyes adjusted. 
	[i]“Please, no more!”[/i] plead the only Fadewatcher that seemed to have remained standing. 
	"I am not a foe," the knight replied, still with a tension in his voice and seemingly ready to draw his sword. 
	Slowly, as if expecting danger to be lurking under any bed, chair or table, he began, eyes more often than not drifting to the stairs, noting the position of any bit of furniture, and blood-splatter. It looked like the aftermath of a massacre. But not one that took place here. Had been long enough for someone to at least try to bandage the wounded. Why would they have just one witless Fadewatcher trying to take care of six wounded, a couple of which did not look so good...
	"Is there anyone else in the building?"


[h2]Madara[/h2]

	She was not going to apologize for good hearing. Bandits? Kidnapping? Looked like the two swordsmen were rather late to the party. And it was particularly their healer that had gone missing. What a coincidence. 
	Brushing an imaginary mote off her shoulder, the half-palanter stepped out from behind the carriage she had been using as a makeshift cover. 
	"You sure did give me a bit of a start, there," she made a vague gesture at the sword at Jordan's hip he had been clutching at just moments ago, "but I should be able to help. I am Madara, a surgeon in my hometown." Among other things. 
	"Right, the young guy muttered, dubiously looking over her, but evidently deeming her trustworthy enough. "Sir, Is it safe in there?" he asked the door. 
	"This room seems to be," a different male voice - presumably the big guy in full armor - replied. 
	Taking it as permission to approach, Madara strode over to the door, much like the knight before her briefly stopping at the door to assess the situation and carefully fold back the sleeves of her tunic. 
	"I might still need those extra bandages," she noted to those behind her back, her natural tendency to gesture kicking in, as even while she was busy pinning her sleeve to her shoulder, she still managed to hold up a finger. "Would someone kindly light the fire and get some water boiling? And bring a light; my sight in dark is not poor, but I a nightwalker I am not."
	By the time she was finished pinning her second sleeve up, she was done running her little preliminary triage and moved in after the knight - "I'm here to help," she would assure the frayed Fadewatcher, but only in passing -, first  opting to take a closer look at the quiet ones. 
	Dying just happened to take too much energy for any to be left over for being noisy, so quiet was sometimes a bit more concerning. Some people were unfazed by nature, others were too shocked to do much, but yet others ... had no more [i]do[/i]
left in them. It was those that needed help the fastest, if there was any help left to give.