up now, while another part debates waiting until the two are on their own again.

Ultimately, he relents altogether. Octavia and Regongar are willing to join and help, and that's enough for the ysoki. "Glad to have you coming along then," he says, having already been introduced through Malkala. "We've been exploring the Greenbelt to find the bandits' encampment. Their leader's apparently called "The Stag Lord."

Confident enough that the newcomers aren't a threat, Zrak walks back to the fireplace and sits next to it. "You ever heard anything about the bandits here?" he asks both.

Seeing Zrak sit by the fire, Octavia seems to sink down to the ground in exhaustion, not paying attention to the fact that she almost set herself on fire. Regongar is more hesitant, looking at Zrak and Malkala with suspicion. Yet, Octavia relaxing finally convinces him to sit down too.

"Not really," Octavia says, "I know that the area is home to many dangers, including bandits, but that's it. Except for passing by, we haven't been in the Stolen Lands."

"The fact that the leader has a well known title, though, means that they have been here a while." Regongar growls. It takes a moment for Zrak to realize that he may naturally speak in growls. "While I would love to just storm in and kill them all, it would be suicide."

Octavia gives the half-orc a glare, "Yes, it would."

Zrak shows a small smile of appreciation toward Regongar and responds without hesitation. "If I could go in and have fun slaughtering every bandit in a big camp, I'd do so." The ratfolk's tone is in stride, acting casually towards life and death, barring his own. "If I believed I could pull it off, I would've tried it as well. The smallest of the group simply sighs, aware he nearly died several times already.

He gives a look over his and Malkala's supplies, clearly intended for two adventurers and not a group of four. There isn't even enough bedrolls for everyone. "We're trying to explore everywhere we can, at least while supplies last."

He shakes his head at the amount of rations left. "Malkala, we didn't pack enough for this," he warns. "We'll probably need to prepare the others for a longer trip when we get back. I sure hope we may find that bandit encampment soon."

Malkala nods, "True. But we can see about hunting and foraging as we travel. It won't be easy, but we should be able to keep ourselves going." She looks up at the sky, as if it would give her all of the answers, "If we don't find the camp in a couple of days, we can head back. We'll lose the trail, but we know the general direction."

She then looks to the pair of newcomers, "You both look exhausted. It's my turn to take watch. While we don't have enough bedrolls for everyone, one of you can use mine."

Octavia gives Malkala a sly look, then leans into Regongar, "Don't worry about us. We can share." Her voice turns smooth and seductive, despite her exhaustion and worry. And Regongar smiles in return.

Malkala stares at the pair, then sighs, "I guess that makes things a bit easier."

Zrak quietly chuckles instead. "So long as you're happy with it," he responds, reaching out over to his bedroll. He wasn't going to let someone claim that when his watch shift is over!

"Hunting shouldn't be an issue," he explains to the newcomers. "I'll teach you the long and short if you've never done it out in the plains. But it ain't too different from hunting in Numeria. We'll grab what we can, then head back."

The ysoki sets up his own bedroll, ready for sleep. "Alright, guess you're up Malkala. We've got a long day tomorrow!" He lies down, hoping to rest up.

The long hours proves otherwise. Every now and then he peeks his ratty eye open, making sure Regongar and Octavia are actually sleeping and not planning anything else. Even with Malkala aware and around, Zrak constantly feels uncomfortable throughout the night.

Oh, how he hopes dawn will soon come.

Zrak wakes up mid-morning, a bit groggy from his secondary watch during the night, but otherwise feeling ready to go. Malkala was already cleaning up camp, tamping the embers of their fire with her scaled feet. Meanwhile, Octavia and Regongar, while just as groggy as Zrak, were both doing what little they could to help clean.

"We are going to continue following the trail of the bandits we are after." Malkala says while working, "It would be appreciated if you'd help us take care of them."

The pair of ex-slaves glanced at each other. Octavia seems a bit more hesitant than Regongar, but both nod.

"Of course." Octavia says with a small bow, "It is the least we can do while you are graciously allowing us to join you."

Malkala gives the woman her own bow, "Thank you."

With that, the group moves on. Malkala and Zrak on their horses like before, and Octavia and Regongar in the wagon, keeping a look out for trouble and talking quietly to each other.

It is approximately noon when Malkala suddenly calls for a halt, pulling her horse hard. She pats the beast's neck, trying to soothe it as the others stop as well. Her taloned finger points to the left, "Voices. And a watchtower."

When Zrak looks up, he can see the watchtower that she pointed out, a simple roofed structure that could look all around. The only thing that kept the figure in it from noticing the party is that the group stopped under trees that blocked their sight. The would be another five minutes of riding to reach the watchtower.

A forest trail leads near it before curving to the right by a second watchtower further down. A pair of shallow rivers surround the trail for about one hundred feet from where the group is standing before merging into one barely larger river. The single river then crosses the trail before following its other side further south. It is difficult to see anything else through the trees from where the group is.

Zrak struggles to stay awake on his horse while looking out in the distance. Watchtowers? "We're coming up on something then," he suggests, creaking his furred neck and giving off a quiet yawn.

It takes a few more moments for him to gather his bearings. The sight was pretty, but the watchtowers provided a clear sense of danger. Assuming the Stag Lord's presence was as significant as implied, then bandits would be searching plenty across the towers, making it harder to approach.

He looks over the fields, forest trail and the shallow rivers seemingly leading further in. "We can probably take the trail here through the trees without being spotted. To a point," his eyes dart over at the river crossing, complicating the remainder of the trip. "Let's try and follow the trees. We'll figure something else out once we get to the river."

Zrak doesn't have a plan, but his sluggish nature makes it hard for him to think of one.

Malkala nods and kicks her horse into motion as silently as she can. The group continues down the path, approaching the area where the rivers merge. Zrak can see that at the intersection, someone made a very crude bridge across. Since it was essentially made of a bunch of sticks and branches that had been laid down without even using something to tie them down, it would not be easy to cross. Unfortunately the horses would have to walk through the river.

As the group does so, despite his exhaustion, Zrak manages to get himself across without issue. But the others did not have as much luck. The horses themselves were quiet, clearly used to the trek, but they did not take care in where they stepped. Each footfall caused water to splash and ripple, making sound that seemed very loud. Zrak was hoping that it just seemed loud rather than actually being loud, but sounds from the watchtower and from beyond the trees to the east told him otherwise.

Malkala knew what was going on as well, and immediately dismounted, drawing her blade. Meanwhile the pair in the wagon stood up, picking up on Malkala's cues of possible battle. Octavia's right arm started glowing dimly as magical runes expanded up and down her torn robes, as if she was wearing magical bangles from wrist to shoulder. Regongar drew his own blade and jumped to the ground, his hand crackling with blue-white lightning. Both Malkala and Zrak could tell that Octavia was trying to stay stealthy, but Regongar seemed to be itching for a fight too much to keep low and quiet.

Zrak sneers behind one of ther trees, realizing the watchtower's alertness and the inevitable enemies coming their way. The last thing he wants are bandits finding something wrong. Everything is always better when your enemies are caught unaware.

He should know better than to expect that by now.

"C'mon, get in here!" he says to Octavia and Regongar with a hissing squeak, kneeling close and behind one of the trees. "You wanna fight? Do it where they can't see you!" There's something about the orc's lightning-flashing hand that will attract half of the entire Greenbelt, and the ysoki can only wonder if that's why those two are on their tenth escape now.

There is no way Zrak will go out and fight if Regongar intends to just rush in. But if there's any chance of getting out of this stealthily, then it begins through environmental tactics.

It takes some convincing from Octavia, but Regongar eventually follows Zrak and Malkala into the trees as the sounds of commotion continue. The tree cover is pretty dense despite the small patch of it, and that makes it a bit difficult to see beyond them. However, it is easy to reverse that: that it is harder for anyone looking into the trees to see them inside.

Only a few seconds after everyone settles in the trees, Zrak and Malkala see a pair of figures walking around the other side of the tree patch. One is a half-elven man in the standard gear of a bandit, nothing too notible about him. The other, however, is a woman with tanned skin either natural or from a lifetime of work under the sun. She is nearly covered head to toe in leather armor, with bags all around her belt. At each of her hips are two axes which look more like woodsman axes than wartime axes. Yet, she strides as confident as a military commander, sure of her leadership and skills. The headscarf tied to her head flaps slightly with each movement, and her mouth curls up into a sinister smirk.

"They finally return. Seems like they need another lesson in being prompt."

The bandit with her snorts, "Happs is as much of a free-spirit as you, Kressle."

"Another way of saying that we both have thick skulls?"

The man shrugs, "I didn't say that."

Kressle begins to chuckle, but halts as they come within view of the wagon and horses abandoned and empty.

The half-elf calls out, "Happs?"

When there is no answer, Kressle holds a hand for silence and moves her gaze around the area. As she does, she reaches down to grab both of her axes.

Octavia sees this and is ready to fight, but she looks to Zrak, waiting for him to make the first move.

The trees make convenient cover for Zrak, staying behind one of the brown bark trees and kneeling close to the ground. His eyes gaze briefly out towards the bandits, then back to Octavia and Regongar. What's this about 'return'? If these watchmen were expecting the other bandits, then they learned far, far more than Zrak wants them to.

So while he had suggested stealth before, the ysoki looks back to the other three and slowly slides the dagger of his lure close to his neck.

The meaning is clear: slay them.

Between the large roots and fallen branches, Zrak's walk eastward is slow and deliberate. Much like a large shadow, with trees to hide him, he appears very subtely within the forest. Keen eyes look outward to the two prey.

Kressle is a closer target, slowly approaching with her axes. Yet before she knows it, a blinding fast metal ball flies past her head and to the bandit behind her!

The fighting lure sails by Kressle's head, the wind of its passage flipping her headscarf around. Yet, the extra distance the lure had to travel gave the bandit enough time to duck out of the way, the ball harmlessly clipping his cheek.

But before either of the bandits had a chance to react, a small orb of fire forms in the cup of Octavia's hand, the magical circles collapsing around it. With a sharp word in a language neither Zrak nor Malkala know, she thrusts her hand forward. The orb darts through the trees, singeing a few leaves and trunks as it moves. But the bandit is now ready for a fight, and is able to twist his body to let the fire slide by his chest, the orb eventually fizzling into nothing.

As she does, Regongar lets out a roar and leaps from the treeline, lightning crackling along his falchion. Once only a step away from Kressle, he swings out in a two-handed horizontal strike at her chest. The chipped metal of the falchion leaves a moderately deep gash in Kressle's armor, but more impressively, the blade sends out a fifteen-foot cone of sonic energy and crackling lightning. Kressle holds her ground and seems unaffected by it save for her loose bits blowing in the wind the sonic force created. The bandit behind her also holds his ground, but Zrak can see from his position that the bandit's ear has a thin line of blood trickling from it.

Gripping her axes hard, Kressle lets out a grin, "Ah. So, the post finally got its defenders, huh? Or are you here for the Stag Lord? Either way, you die."

She twirls her axes in hand then sends them both in a dual downward sweep at Regongar's head. The first axe digs deep into the half-orc's shoulder, causing him to growl in angry pain. Zrak can see, though, that some of the leftover sonic magic from his strike flows into the wound, preventing the axe from going as deep as it should have. Despite the new wound in his shoulder, Regongar catches the second axe on the hilt of his blade and parries it aside. With a snort of amusement, Kressle continues her metalic assault on the half-orc, her axes flashing in the light of the sun. The half-orc does not let any more of the axes land their strikes, his arm moving almost too fast to see, sparks flying from where his blade meets axe.

Malkala starts rushing forward, her talons digging into the soft ground as she moves. As she passes Zrak,