Crimson mist and smoky dust danced alongside one another as the Black Lily guild-members went to work. It was rare that a plan actually went accordingly, but improvisation had always been the guild's strong suit anyway. Gabriel glanced around as his fellow members took control of carts and slayed the bomb-spouting mages one by one. He was quickly reminded of the reason they had worked so well together for the past three months; though none of them could call each other friend in the traditional sense of the word, their collective propensity for fatalities had brought them together and it was undeniable that, together, they had to be one of the deadliest units in all of Pratus. One more thing was also painfully clear to the speeding mercenary as he settled his gaze on a carriage that had been relatively untouched. He realized that he had yet to pull his weight on a job that he, himself, had pushed for.
Lips twisted into a sinister grin under maroon fabric as emerald irides locked onto the unfortunate conveyance that was yet to be accounted for. A sharp pain dug into the side of the ebon courser inciting a strenuous neigh and a final push in acceleration. The masked mercenary, lowered and slightly raised from the saddle, sped past the other carriages and trampled over slaughtered bodies, reaching the untouched cart in an almost otherworldly amount of time. Gabriel wasted not a second more. All in one motion, he swung an lightly armored leg onto the back of his mare and pushed off violently, sending him up and into the carriage and causing his steed to lose balance and fall behind. As he landed, a broken spearhead emerged and immediately impaled the first unlucky magician through his abdomen. An instinctive boot rose to meet a charging bomber from the rear, sending him stumbling back and over the low edge of the transport just before the adrenaline-fueled merc trapped the arm of a knife-wielding assailant in mid-swing and forced the knife into the wielder's chest. He drove the man back, stabbing him a few more times as he forced his body to floor of the cart and locked eyes with the dying mage.
"Don't rely on shitty magic," Gabriel growled as his prey died, mouth agape. Erecting himself quickly, he turned and retrieved the spearhead, still resting in the warm abdomen of its target. Just as the rest of his comrades had done, Gabriel slayed his cart's driver and the entire caravan eventually slowed to a halt. A gloved hand pulled down the fabric covering his face and Gabriel hopped down from the cart before wiping his brow. His body was in plenty good shape, but it still wasn't a breeze to move quickly in even light armor. Gabriel's combat style was always much better suited to one who ignored armor altogether, but he also desired to live a few more years if he could help it. He only briefly glanced around to make sure the others were still living before he hefted a wooden box from his cart and dropped it unceremoniously on the dusty road. His gaze drifted upwards to the sky to be met with a mixture of orange, red, and even a little lavender. It was mostly cloudless, but the sun was descending slowly in the east. He cursed under his breath.
"It's already dusk, damnit," he said out loud to no one in particular, "And we're miles away from The Disk. We might have to travel to Braven and find an inn for the night." He collected his box and put it back on the cart, before climbing inside once more. He headed towards the driver's seat. "Guess we'll have to turn this caravan towards the east. We can't be this far out when the moon finally shows itself. It'll turn an already fucked day into something much worse," He echoed to everyone. He sat and took the reins of his cart and snapped the leather. The horses cried and begun a slow turn towards a small, almost hidden path leading away from the main road and heading towards a village you could just barely see in the distance. It was never safe to be out at night in the Wildlands, even if you were with a group. In the case of Black Lily, they had just had an encounter with men who preferred to use as much as magic as humanly possible and there was already a danger of the worst kinds of creatures coming to see what had drawn them there.
If they were to survive, they would hightail it to the village of Braven. The others grabbed the other carriages and the newly owned caravan started its journey towards the village. The sun was setting quicker than they were anticipating.