~ Pressed Into The Forest Trap ~
Interacting with: [@Cheeky_Bandit], @OwO
With a slap of his back, the Dame was off her mount - spear at the ready, belching out a counter-attack at the sudden ambush. He figured he hadn't heard them because they weren't moving; He figured they'd heard the order's party because they were; He figured it'd be wise to get off his mount before it bucked him into the arrow-fire. The River Knight slapped shut his visor and swung a leg down over the opposite side of the beast's sadd--
A force like a lightning bolt clanged full-on where exposed flesh had so tantalizingly lain only seconds prior, forcing a disoriented "UOMPH!" from his whiplashed windpipe. The world tumbled around Druncarde, and he collapsed backwards over his saddle visor-first into the loamy earth below...
One of the horses shrilled in pain to the thunk of missile-fire, stray or intended, and with a surprised grunt, Druncarde collected himself onto all fours - scrambling to retrieve the spear & shield that'd lost their way amidst the malicious greeting. Wheeling about back to his feet, he stumbled upon the realization that he now lay *across* the horse-train from which Larette had so hastily advanced...though by the looks of things, she was handling the situation bloody well.
A second arrow bounced off the back of his head, shunting him forward a step before he could find the time to recover. Whipping back another 180 degrees, he raised his kite and advanced silently toward his side of the thicket as the din of battle awoke under cracks of dusk shattered between ancient canopies. Another arrow shot out of the treeline and failed miserably to halt his wary endeavor - whoever was hiding back here had a tremendous amount of grit for a bandit (presumably) outclassed in every measure. At this pace, it'd take at least a few more seconds to reach their cozy nook...so he decided to book it instead - dropping low on his hips and pelting full-sprint into the mess of silhouetted trunks and entwined shrubberies!
...No one - completely devoid of any presence that'd been there moments before. Druncarde surveyed his flanks and caught sight of a rather promiscuous little set of skirmishers skittering about behind the vegetation, ducking out of cover to loose the occasional potshot before hastily blending back into the safety of the trees. The path to the vanguard was temptingly preoccupied with reckless hit-and-run maneuvers, but it seemed the wiser course of action to secure the rear...besides, he needed a quick bit of payba--
"CLUNK", went the taunting invitation of a third and (he hoped) final shot to his cranium, blunted by the rush of adrenaline pulsating through his veins.
"EY-EY, BRIGHT-BOY - 'WAT'S-A-MATTER, CAN'T TAKE A HINT?"
. . .Brazen idiots...bored Druncarde.