Chapter 1: The Beginning

Jorrel finishes packing his things into his bag, then slings it into the back of the wagon,

"Look, if I go sneaking up there with you two, I'm probably just goin' ta get ya killed. Crawlin' around in the bushes just i'nt my thing. You go on ahead, take up a position as close as you can get. I'll give you ten hundred-counts then I'll drive this wagon right up to them, all innocent-like. You'll know when to spring the trap."

As he talks he climbs into the drivers' seat and stashes his unsheathed sword just behind the seat, out of sight. With his cloak wrapped tight around him nobody would be able to spot his armour unless they were right on top of him, and by then it would be too late.

You raise a valid point. We need to move quickly. Eddie says, moving back up the hill to his previous vantage point quietly, trying to maneuver into a place somewhat closer but still hidden from view.

Trying to get as close to the bandits as possible without alerting them.
10/10 HP | 47 AC

May follows Eddie towards the enemy encampment, retaining some distance but keeping sight with him. She creeps through the hillside finding the smoke she seeks. She adheres to the man's pace as they advance through the night.

Jorrel settles himself as comfortably as possible on the wooden seat of the cart and counts under his breath, and each time he reaches one hundred he raises another finger. Boredom doesn't touch him, as he is totally absorbed in the task. When he has completed the count he gees the horses forward into a trot and adopts a bored pose.

Damn! Eddie said silently to himself as he crept backwards and off to one side. His hand squeezed the worn grip of his rapier nervously, sure that he'd be set upon momentarily. Come on Jorrel. Make quick work of that counting old timer!

As she sees the approach, she gives Eddie a cursory glance as to gauge his intentions. "Well, we're pulling them from the hearties so I guess the works" she thinks to herself. She plants herself firmly and starts minding her breath. "Maybe a little bit closer. Just a few more paces chums." She pulls out a dagger and gingerly runs it through the seams and studs of her bracers. She makes a measured rhythmic clicking noise that she believes to be vaguely discernable from their distance with the troop.

May locks eyes with him and flicks a coin to about 30 feet in front of her. She keeps the noise on bordering to audible levels as she stares at the people below.

Jorrel stops the cart about twenty feet from the brigands and drops the reins. He stares intently at each of them in turn, allowing them to take in the extensive scarring on his face. He then spits on the ground in front of them before speaking,

"Now you boys should pro’ly turn around and head the other way," he says in a slow, deep drawl, "or yer likely ta get hurt."

Edwin hears the bandits start moving slowly away and quietly lets his breath out, waiting a five count before he starts back up the hill.

He stands up on the footrest of the cart and ever so slowly reaches back, then lifts his greatsword high, moving very slowly so they can get the best possible view of every one of its sixty-four inches. He then flourishes it as he jumps down to the left of the cart.

"Not a good day to be a bandit," he says as he saunters towards them.

May would dart and dive through the thickets and stop right around where the cover starts going thin. She would the draw her shortsword alongside the dagger and wait until she is sure that there is only three of them.