After connecting on two perfect shots, Jahan grinned. "Looks likes I'm getting a hang of this." He thought. Jahan thought that the rest of this encounter would be a piece of cake. The Torbican girl was doing great. She even disarmed the lancer and was getting ready to deliver a finishing blow, Jahan assumed. Jahan loaded up his bow once more. His aim was still a tad shaky, but it was manageable. Jahan thought that nothing could go wrong with this shot, or really anything right now.

He was wrong.

As Jahan was centering his aim, an arrow from out of nowhere struck the Torbican girl's arm. It nearly missed, but it clearly still did something."Huh?!" Jahan said aloud, immediately lowering his bow and looking in the direction of where the bow came from. He saw a girl, stand very far away. Jahan wanted to instantly shoot her in the head for that surprise, but she WAS very far away. Probably far enough to dodge anything he could shoot at her. After giving it a little more thought, Jahan decided to focus on the lancer instead, readying another arrow, hoping that the archer girl wouldn't cause an trouble. Then, he would get the Torbican woman and himself to deal with her.

"Though, nothing's gone to plan up to this point, so this may end badly..." Jahan thought, after launching the shot at the lancer.

Mitra scowled slightly as Barrett opted to play hard to get. No matter. He wasn't healing the bandit anymore, and it was unlikely he would up and leave with the prospect of payment on the line. This outcome was acceptable. With that taken care of, Mitra turned her attention back to the battle at hand, only to see the bandit draw blood twice more. The girl's eyes contracted. She didn't even bother to put her pouch away, allowing it to fall to the ground as she rushed forward. She scooped up the axe she had thrown as she closed the distance between her and the enemy, drawing the other from her sash as well.

"Enough!" She shouted as she drew near him, swinging both hatchets.

Jax's blow was pleasingly effective, but left him too open too attack, as evidenced by the two thin trickles of blood now on his armor. Attempting to alleviate that he drew his shield and weapon in closer to his body, and stepped ever more towards the man with another swing. If the man held is spear out for impaling it would likely be deflected, and if not, a trade in blows would still be in Jax's favor. If the man defended, which was less likely, the axe had a good chance of snapping the flimsy pole out of the way, leaving a great opening. Likely though the man would dodge, and Jax would have to try to rely on his own skills to correct himself to hit or defend.

After a brief struggle, Helle managed to disarm her opponent, his lance embedding itself in the ground nearby. As she stepped back, two arrows flew past her in turn, both hitting the now unarmed lancer. So the archer boy had had a shaky start, but he turned out to know what he was doing. Helle grinned, sure the battle would be over soon.

Then an arrow appeared out of nowhere and grazed her arm. Looking around for the enemy archer, Helle spotted a girl some distance away, too far to get to at the moment even for the archer boy. Well, that was an inconvenience, but nevermind. She could be dealt with later; the lancer was unarmed and Helle needed to utilize that advantage.

Once again, she stepped forward and slashed at him while he was defenceless.

Amiss? Danger? Had these people never heard anyone scream before? Did it not occur to them that someone stubbing their toe was a very real thing that happened occasionally? What on earth was everyone’s deal?

In any case, if Mr. High and Mighty bartender was going to pretend that someone yelling was anything resembling a valid reason to refuse him service, Herlewin had better things to do than convince him otherwise. One dirty look in the man’s direction later, the boy was on his way back up the stairs leading to the room that he was now regretting having spent money to rent. Fat chance that these lousy excuses for innkeepers would ever see any of his coin again. He continued grumbling about what a waste of time the morning had been as he climbed the steps leading to the second story, but his foul mood quickly faded as he entered his room and saw the golden glow emanating from the window. The sun was still shining, the birds were still singing (although they were now accompanied by a number of other noises that Herlewin couldn’t quite place) and by all accounts, it could still be a beautiful day. He decided to stop by the windowsill to take in the fresh morning air, and it was then that he saw just what everyone’s deal was.

Oh. Oh.

Oh dear.

Herlewin paled as waves of both understanding and guilt washed over him. He hadn’t thought to warn anyone about the group of marauders from the campsite, and now they were razing the village. Smoke could be seen wafting through the air as buildings blazed, and only a short distance from the window, one of the group’s lancers was actively engaged in combat with the woman from the arm wrestling contest. Herlewin had no doubts of her strength, but she was going to get herself killed fighting an opponent whose weapon clearly bested her own.

Panicking at the thought of being the indirect cause of someone’s death, the boy began to rummage through his pack of performance equipment, searching for an idea moreso than any particular object. He clasped his bow and looked out the window once more. Firing at the brigand directly would only serve to increase the load on his already burdened conscience, but the alternative was… wait. Something else had struck the lancer. That sound was all too familiar for Herlewin to mistake. That was an arrow.

The showman hoped to relieve the twisting feeling in his chest by casting his gaze in the direction of the sound; someone has come to help, he thought, the woman won’t die after all. As his gaze fell upon the bowman, the waves of guilt lapping at his soul crested to a terrible pang, running his tortured conscience aground the shores of intolerable compunction. This bowman wasn’t a man at all! He was a youth, no older than the youngest boys in Herlewin’s troupe. No. This was unacceptable. Herlewin was not going to let a boy die. The woman could fend for herself; it seemed she had successfully disarmed her opponent in the moments Herlewin had spent in thought. This boy, though, evidently had little experience as an archer and less experience on the battlefield. Granted, Herlewin had little of the later himself, but even he could tell by the youth’s form that the boy had never seen a skirmish. He had to do something.

Herlewin looked up. There was a tree in the inn’s yard. An old tree with many branches. Branches that could support the weight of a man… or two. The gears began to turn in the showman’s head, and his performer’s heart smiled as a plan formed. His window was high enough to swing from, and the boy below was scarcely any larger than those the entertainer had carried countless times in his acrobatic routines. This could definitely work.

Instants later, a grappling hook was out of Herlewin’s bag, tied to a length of rope, knocked to his string and pointed towards a branch halfway up the tree. He let the hook fly, not even waiting to check if it had properly wrapped itself around the branch before grabbing the rope and leaping out the window, legs spread, ready to catch the young archer under the elbows and hoist him up to the tree limb.

The purse dropped, and Barrett’s eyes narrowed. The skank. Couldn’t be bothered to toss the shadowed thing. She was going to make him walk.

Well, so be it. This was the first chance he had had at pulling a tangible reward from this mess of an encounter, and he was not keen on leaving his prize in the middle of a battlefield. Besides, if he went to get it now, there would be no haggling over his fee. Certainly, he could ask for more later on, but he would, at the very least, be one whole coin purse richer. That was good enough a start.

It would be a relatively risk-free endeavour for the promised reward, he reasoned. The stupid oaf of an axe handler that he had healed was otherwise occupied, intent on wasting his second chance at life assaulting two women that were clearly his betters in combat. It had served his purposes just fine, but Barrett couldn’t help but laugh inwardly at how idiotic the man was being. He would never let a pair of broads get the better of him. Not even temporaril- Hm. No need to take that train of thought to its logical conclusion. Barrett made his way once more up the small incline to where the skirmish was taking place, taking extra care to draw as little attention to himself as he could. The purse was just beyond the barely noticeable hillcrest. He needed only take things slowly.

Lowering himself to his belly, he held his staff out in an attempt to roll the small bag of coins toward him. The harsh symphony of metal on metal rang overhead mere feet away, closer to his ears - and neck - than he ever wanted it to be again. It was time to go. Just a few inches more, and...

Curses. He had managed to push his prize in the opposite direction. Elbows digging into the soft grass beneath him, he squirmed forward that he might again try to capture the purse. He cast a fleeting glance upward, checking to ensure that he was still a relatively safe distance from the combatants. That was the case, thankfully, but Barrett’s rapid perusal of the situation was halted by the sword-wielding girl. She was in a rough spot. It seemed as though she had sustained heavier wounds than he had anticipated. Even so, she fought with a ferocity that the cleric would sooner have ascribed to her charging bull of a companion.

Barrett rolled his eyes. Did no one on this blasted earth realize that they could turn tail and run away rather than impale themselves on the weapons of their enemies? He sighed. As much as she might deserve it, he couldn’t have the lady getting herself killed. The other one would no doubt blame him, and if the fierce loyalty that she had thus far demonstrated for her friend was any indication at all, he would be a hunted man for the rest of his life. It seemed the generous spirit of the forest would have to intervene in the lives of these foolish girls once more. Swinging his staff around reluctantly, he let loose another stream of healing energy, aimed this time at the sword-swinging lass. This was going to cost her more than a bowl of soup.

The bandit was beginning to realize that he had jumped into a fight for which he was well underprepared. The steel poleaxe met its mark, lodging itself into the bare shoulders of the bandit before it was wrenched free. The bandit cried out in pain as blood began to surge from the wound, though the wyvern knight was not yet done. Quickly manoeuvring his wyvern into position, he struck again, hitting his mark successfully as he struck once more.

The bandit was stunned, but he was no quitter. If he were to die here, he would die serving his master in combat. Charging forwards he jumped into the air, his axe gleaming in the sun's light as time seemed to slow and landed with a thud against Alborz's armour. The sheer effort of the move had caused him great pain, though his attack was heavy. He rolled onto the ground off of Ignavus' back, standing up with his axe raised, his breathing laboured though with a determined look in his eyes.

Alborz: 53/62
---------------------
Enemy Reaver: 10/42

Alborz – Double Hit! 16 damage; 16 damage
Enemy Reaver – Critical!! 6 damage



Taking advantage of the unarmed lancer, and emboldened by his growing success at his hits, Jahan loosed another volley of shots. His fingers were light on his bow as he strung and quickly loosed two bows in rapid succession. The first struck true, directly hitting the lancer in his arm, though the second, perhaps because of his growing confidence, went awry grazing the lancer's shoulder as the arrow whizzed by.

Likewise, Helle wasted no time to attack her unarmed foe as she struck him with her long sword. No longer handicapped by a weapon disadvantage, she struck her foe squarely. The bandit fell to the ground after the blow, crawling pitifully away from the Torbican warrior and the youth.

Once again, the distant archer had knocked her bow, though instead of aiming at the Torbican warrior maiden, she aimed at the young trainee. She loosed her arrow, striking the boy in his calf, though still, she remained too far for the boy to retaliate.

Fortunately, it was at this moment that Herlewin swooped down from above, snatching the wounded boy from the ground and they both safely landed in the tree that he had originally targeted.

GM: Herlewin has entered the skirmish.

Helle: 33/42
Jahan: 15/20
Herlewin: 41/41
-------------------------------
Enemy Lancer: 4/42
Enemy Archer: 41/41

Jahan – Double Hit! 4 damage; 2 damage
Helle – Hit! 9 damage
Enemy Lancer – Disarmed (1 turn)
Enemy Archer – Hit! 3 damage
Herlewin –Rescue




Once again, Jax's slow and steady strike did significant damage on the enemy lancer, and yet, the knight was not done. Hacking forward again with his axe, Jax was surprisingly quick enough to strike once more. Both of his hits struck true, gravely wounding the bandit.

He was however facing someone much quicker than himself. The enemy lancer, though on his last legs, was not about to give up. He quickly circled around his opponent, striking once with his lance, and then once more. It was strange seeing an imperial knight in Emeldia, the one of the few provinces untouched by the imperial wars. Why was he here fighting for some peasants from some village that was not even on the map.

"Why is you here?" asked the bandit "We did nuffin to call out the imperial troops"


Jax: 30/42
---------------------
Enemy Lancer: 9/42

Jax – Double Hit! 11 damage; 11 damage
Enemy Lancer – Double Hit! 3 damage; 3 damage



The bandit could not help but quiver as he saw Mitra's crossed blades come for him. He attempted to raise his axe to shield himself, but he had suffered too greatly at the hands of Amelia's swordsmanship. Still, he had a faint bit of hope, waiting for that wave of healing magic that had saved him the last time he was in dire straits. Except this time, there was no healing. Instead, Mitra's hatched crossed over his chest, drawing more blood. His eyes closed as he fell to the ground, dead.

In the meantime, the healing, for which the bandit had prayed, was directed at the princess. Amelia felt warmth flowing through her body as the crystalline stars floated from the vagabond's staff and landed on her skin like snowflakes. Her more grievous wounds began to mend themselves and close as the magic flowed through her body. Eventually, the sparkles faded away, leaving the princess in much better condition than she had been.

Now that she had time to think, as their immediate foe was slain, Amelia turned to look at Barrett with a questioning expression. In truth, a part of her still wanted to gut him with her sword for what he had done, but the more sensible side won out her internal struggle. Instead, she nodded curtly in his direction.

"I thank you for your aid" she said solemnly. She looked back down at the slain body on the ground, blood leaking into the earth. The sky was now red as the fires grew larger, there was still so much for them to do. Somewhere, in the midst of all this chaos, her brother Toby was to be found.

"Oh spirit of the forest" spoke Amelia in a regal tone "Should you help me defeat the bandits which have besieged this mortal town. I swear by the light, that you shall have your fill of food, and more."

Amelia: 30/42
Mitra: 42/42
Barrett: 40/40
--------------------------------
Enemy Reaver: Dead

Mitra – Hit! 8 damage
Barrett – Heal+2 12 restored
Amelia – Parley

Mitra clenched the handles of her axes, swinging them through the air to rid them of excess blood. Looking at her slain foe, she began to enter a state of intense focus. Her brow furrowed as she turned her attention to Barrett, the man having somehow made himself a much more complicated problem than a simple brigand could ever hope to be. Many unsavory possibilities as to what she could say (or do) to him flashed through her mind, but before she could act on any of them, Amelia addressed the vagabond. More surprisingly, the princess's wounds appeared to have recovered considerably. So, he had healed her. While the young woman was relieved, this turn of events somehow frustrated her even more.

"Don't speak so kindly." Mitra said, approaching the others. She turned to Barrett. "Your idiotic maneuver cost us precious time, and possibly the lives of innocent people because of it." Her voice grew darker. "This isn't a game. This isn't a treasury. The battlefield is for enemies and allies. There's no room for anything in between. So either help, or make yourself very scarce." Her brief diatribe complete, the reaver pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. "Finish healing her and you can keep your precious imperials. I'm... I'm gonna go see how the big guy is doing." Before anyone else had a chance to respond, she shuffled away.

Mitra rounded the corner of the nearby building to see Jax engaged in combat with a lancer. Lucky bastard. Lancers were far easier to deal with than reavers. Case in point, this poor fool. He appeared to be on his last legs, and was very obviously outclassed. That said, he was staunchly refusing to back down. If nothing else, one had to admire bandits' complete and utter disregard for self-preservation. As she moved to stand beside her colleague, the young woman's eyes narrowed.

"It looks like you've got this handled." She spoke. "But, uh, you know how I get. Do you mind if I...?" She trailed off, hoping the knight would know what she meant.

After releasing 2 more shots, Jahan was feeling like a pro on the battlefield. His two shots both landed, the first perfect, the second only grazing his shoulder. They couldn't all be winners. But Jahan was optimistic. A previously scary situation turned into a very, VERY favorable one. And he finally got to use his bow outside of shooting targets on a practice field. THIS was experience. Jahan loaded up another shot. After all of hits he and the Torbican woman have gotten on the lancer, he was sure that this was it and this village would have one less brigand to worry about. "After this, the Torbican and can maybe take down a couple more brigands and save the village, and I can get back to looking for that darn medic" Jahan thought. Everything was looking up for Jahan.

Or so he thought.

Right as Jahan thought about how bright the future looked, a sharp pain grew in his legs. It felt like a he'd just been stabbed.... 100 times... with a KNIGHT'S SWORD. Jahan, at this, lowered his bow and proceeded to hold his ankle, which now had an arrow in it. He looked to his side to see the archer girl from before, still very far away, with her bow up and pointed in his direction. "You son a of a witch..." Jahan said through gritted teeth, though he was sure she had not heard her. OF COURSE the archer would ruin a perfectly good 1st battle. Jahan thought that she was occupied with the Torbican woman, since that was part of the reason why they were here in the first place. He never thought of the possibility that she'd turned her attention to him.

However, before Jahan even had time to say "I guess I thought wrong" in his head, he was suddenly off the ground, and not even half of a minute later, in a tree. Jahan, startled, picked his head up and looked around and saw that he was in a tree with some guy he had never seen before, who also had a grappling hook. Without even thinking about whether or not this man was another brigand and about to kill him, Jahan yelled "WHO IN THE BLOODY HECK ARE YOU?!... WHY ARE WE IN THIS TREE?!" Meanwhile, Jahan's ankle continued to hurt like a butcher sliced it with his giant butcher knife. "This is not how imagined my first real battle would turn out... Jahan thought.

Jax's experiance over his opponent showed, as the man seemly let himself be repeatedly torn asunder by Jax's blade. Perhaps it was so that he could return a few quick strikes of his own, a foolhardy plan in both the short and long run as he could barely even stand after his strikes.

"Why is you here?" asked the bandit "We did nuffin' to call out the imperial troops."

Jax gave the man no answer and no quarter, instead the scenery did it's best to substitute, for after the combatant's dance had caused them to switch places, Jax's armor caught the glint of some of the burning building reflecting not only the surroundings but Jax's simple hatred of the man that would attack and kill innocents for petty or selfish reasons. The overhead swing that came next was more deliberate in monition then the strikes before; It's intent was to kill.

After being disarmed, shot twice by the archer boy, and struck by Helle again, the lancer was on his last legs. One last attack ought to finish him off. Helle was preparing to strike the finishing blow when an arrow came shooting--but instead of hitting her, it embedded itself in the archer boy's leg. Helle's initial surprise turned to absolute bafflement when the archer boy was snatched away in the blink of an eye. Following the motion, she saw him come to a stop in a tree. A taller boy (but still a boy nonetheless) appeared to be responsible for kidnapping her ally.

She gave the newcomer a quick glance before deciding that he wasn't a brigand; one of them probably wouldn't try and pull off a maneuver like that. The archer boy was screaming bloody murder, but from what Helle picked up it was the expected reaction to being picked up by a stranger and swung into a tree.

At the moment, Helle couldn't afford to be distracted. Satisfied that the archer boy was safe, Helle turned back to the lancer. Her face set with grim determination, she strode up to him and brought her blade down to finish him off. After he was dealt with, she could go after that pesky archer girl.

The leaf-laden cleric stood quasi-motionless. He was hunched over, staff locked in the crook of his elbow, eyes focused on hands that were repeating a single, smooth motion. In the one he held the much sought-after coin purse, an item that he had deemed safe to retrieve normally following the dead bandit’s collapse. In the other, one by one, he placed the contents of his newly-acquired prize. So absorbed was he in this task that he paid no heed to the thanks of the lady that now addressed him, nor to the reprimand of her companion. For several moments after the reaver had left, nothing could be heard on the grassy field save the soft plinking of imperial gold coins as they tapped and pattered against each other. It could have been a pleasant and relaxing sound, rhythmic as it was, were it not for the fact that blood had only just been spilled not five feet from where the treasure’s new owner stood. Finally, stack of twigs that was more and more beginning to resemble a tree broke the silence.

“Well, she’s not very pleasant, is she?” Barrett turned to look at Amelia before stuffing the bag of gold into the folds of his robes. It was a decent haul. Enough to eat heartily for a month at least. Still, he was far from finished with these people, and if the brazen one could afford to drop such coinage on a treacherous vagabond, there had to be more where that came from. The ladybird’s offer was precisely the opening that he needed.

Barrett stepped towards the girl and planted himself directly in front of her, scratched his nose, and dropped the self-same hand on her shoulder with a slothful thud. With a tilted head and a yawn on the edge of his expression he addressed her. “Your reverence and piety are appreciated, lovely. I will see your victory over those you deem to be beneath you.” His face opened into a garish smile, flashing yellow teeth and all.

“But you best pray there to be more where this came from,” he added, jingling the coins in his garments. “Because it seems to me that you’re expecting a third healing, and your friend only paid for two.”

All the worries that Herlewin carried melted away the instant he felt the coarse twists of rope grow taut in his hands. His shot had struck true. Time itself seemed to slow as he sped up, his body smoothing into a curved trajectory, his mind flowing into focus. Before gravity could dash the acrobat’s body across the ground, his lifeline pulled him gently away, forwards, towards the boy for whose life he was now taking responsibility.

Then the arrow struck.

Herlewin’s gaze widened. He was too late. He, who prided himself on having spent his life developing an implacable nerve, had hesitated before settling on a plan. In the moment where it actually mattered, where his actions meant the difference between life and death, he had failed his act.

He seized himself. This was no time for a self-pity party. He was tumbling through the air, approaching an injured person at break-neck speed. He needed to concentrate. Swooping in from above, Herlewin adopted a trained posture, designed to absorb as much of the impact as possible as he collided with his target. A split second later, the boy from below was firmly in the grasp of his legs and the acrobat was using his body to transfer the forward momentum from their swing into an upwards sway. At the height of their trajectory, he gave a final jerk to the rope, finishing the job and landing them in the tree. They were safe. At least, for now.

Herlewin had temporarily saved the boy from further arrow wounds, but apparently that hadn’t done anything to prevent a total nervous breakdown. The youth started hollering as if the light itself had forsaken him, which, while understandable given what had just transpired, was nonetheless incredibly grating. Herlewin didn’t like yelling in the first place; having someone yell in his ear was entirely too much to handle.

“Name’s Herlewin,” said Herlewin, already regretting his decision. “and if ye’ll simmer down for a minute...”

The showman paused, injecting a hint of impatience into his tone and giving the boy the most disapproving-grown-up look he could muster from the height of his three years of difference.

“... we’re in this tree ‘cause I’m saving your life. Now lemme see that leg a yours.” Herlewin motioned for the boy to lean against the tree trunk before swiftly - yet with a deft gentleness - taking the youth’s leg into his hands. Luckily for the young archerboy, arrow wounds were the one thing that Herlewin vaguely knew how to treat. He’d never seen such a wound himself, but his mentor had mentioned them more than a few times. Like most injuries, the first thing was to stop the bleeding. Unfortunately for the young archerboy, the showman had left most of his belongings back in his room and presently had only his bow and grappling hook with him. The tree branch was too low to allow Herlewin to swing back to the inn’s window, and descending from the tree at this point would only put him in danger of the enemy archer.

...Man. He really hadn’t thought this through.

“You wouldn’t happen to have any anything to wrap your leg with, would you?”

Lost in his own thoughts, Jax heard neither Mitra’s approach nor her request. Raising his axe overhead, he swung downwards powerfully, catching the foolish bandit’s head violently. His eyes widened in shock for a few seconds, until his eyes rolled up into back of his head as he fell to the ground dead. Jax stood victoriously over his fallen foe.

Jax: 30/42
Mitra: 42/42
------------------------------------
Enemy Lancer: Dead

Jax – Hit! 11 damage



The lancer, stood defiantly before Helle. His eyes were sunken, and the various wounds that he had suffered were bleeding quite profusely. He staggered, struggling to stay afoot, though it was clear that he could endure only a little more. Perhaps knowing these things, Helle grew too confident, or she preferred to reserve what strength she had for the remaining battle. Whatever the reason, as she swung her sword, the lancer collapsed to one knee and fell to the ground, causing Helle’s long sword to only graze a wound that had already been opened. Nevertheless, the grazing was all that was needed for her to defeat the lancer, as he drew his last breath and fell facedown into the earth.

The archer, seeing that she had lost her distraction, maintained her distance and fired her arrow at the new interloper who had taken her weak target into the tree. The arrow whizzed by the acrobat’s shoulder, only barely scratching him as it imbedded itself into the trunk of the tree of which they stood.

Helle: 33/42
Jahan: 15/20
Herlewin: 39/41
---------------------------
Enemy Lancer: Dead
Enemy Archer: 41/41

Helle – Graze 5 damage
Jahan – Parley
Herlewin – Parley
Enemy Archer – Graze 2 damage



Amelia could not help but smirk in response to Mitra’s dealing with the healer. In truth, he was definitely much more trouble than he was worth, but still, as far as she knew, there were no other healers in the vicinity.

“Well, she’s not very pleasant, is she?” spoke Barrett, interrupting the princess from her thoughts. She resisted the urge to recoil as he stepped closer, his pungent earthy aroma growing ever stronger as he approached. As he placed his dirt laden hand onto her shoulder, it took much self-restraint from the princess to not slap it off of her shoulder. Literally everything about this so-called spirit of the forest was quite repulsive to her.

“I have no need to pray, oh spirit” replied Amelia coolly “Should you prove your worth, you will see more than you have ever seen in your lifetime. What you have received so far is not even a single strand of light emitted from the great sun itself.” It was a risk that she was taking, brazenly speaking of her wealth so openly. She would not be surprised if the man was now plotting the kidnapping of her own person, but she was not afraid of the vagrant. No, not at all, for she could handle herself quite well on her own. Thus, she felt confident taking advantage of the shifty tree-man’s avarice. Her health partially restored, Amelia felt her fighting spirit returning, and she was ready to rejoin her colleagues in the fight.

“Do not take me for a fool,” she chided playfully with a glint in her steely eyes, “You have only healed me once, and thus you owe me one more based upon what was paid. It is no concern of mine that you wasted your healing on a bandit.” She turned on the heels of her boots with her hand resting on the pommel of her sword as she walked towards her allies.

“Provided that you accept my contract,” she said over her shoulder “Your payment shall be determined by your performance of usefulness.”

Walking over to Jax and Mitra’s side, Amelia looked down at the fallen body for a few moments in silence. She felt no mercy for the bandit, the coward who had attacked these innocent people for no good reason. It upset her that such injustices happened all over the empire, and with the imperial throne currently vacant, it would only get worse. What were the ramifications for such a deliberate act of treason? Would it trigger a war? The relative peace that she had enjoyed throughout her life seemed so very fragile when carefully examined.

“Toby is somewhere in this village,” finally spoke Amelia as she looked toward the burning buildings “We cannot let these bandits burn this village down”

GM: Barrett + 200 imperials; Mitra – 200 imperials

Amelia: 30/42
Barrett: 40/40

Amelia – Parley
Barrett – Parley

Foolish bastard, what could have he expected would come of his dark path in life? Regardless, there was no time to worry about that now. He turned to his companion that had arrived just moments ago, she had said something to him hadn't she? What was it? Judging from the look on her face she was pleading with him, but surely not to spare the scum, did she want to kill him?

"What ever you're thinking, this isn't a game. We don't have time to play around with these murderers while others of their group still rampage this village. Every moment we waste could cost innocent lifes." The knight unknowing echoed the reaver's own words.

"Toby is somewhere in the village," The princess said heavily as she joined the little group. She had apparently been in a battle just as fierce as his own, probably worse since Mitra would have been there with her. His two companions may not have had his experience but their skills and reasons and to fight were admiral. As demonstrated by the princess's next statement. Not "we have to save him" but "we cannot let these bandits burn this village down."

Jax nodded. "Awaiting your command. Point me in a direction and I'll crush any of your foes that appear in my way."