The path back should be faster than the circuitous trail we had to follow to get this far. It's a straight line north to a road that leads back to town. Following the road should be safe and quick. I doubt any bandits would attacks us on the road. In the woods, though, they wouldn't have to worry about our patrols coming upon them.
It's stopped raining. How did I miss that? The sun is shining brightly. The leaves above us keep the area shady. Perhaps that's what caused the darkness to dissipate before. The mud is still going to slow us down though, and make us easy to track if anyone would want to...
Halfway to the road. Stanton can walk on his own without stumbling now. I hope he can fight. I think I hear a group that could be trouble up ahead. I stow my halberd in my magical bag to keep a lower profile, “Should we go around and hope they aren't going the same way, or should we check them out and try to avoid them after observing for a while?”
We both stop walking, Stanton closes his eyes and turns towards the sound of voices ahead, probably focusing on the sound, “ I think it's a small group. If I weren't feeling so out of it here I'd go check if they were thugs, and then I'd either go around them opposite of the direction they were going or try to make an arrest, depending on group size. Can you sneak up to them do you think or should we trust to luck that they aren't coming towards us or going the same way we choose to?”
“I think I could. Take this and stay close enough to track me, but still be out of sight,” I hand him the crossbow from my magical bag, and my beltbox of bolts. I hope he can still pull the string back with that shoulder wound.
“Right, this looks like a fairly good one, this isn't standard is it?”
“No, it's a hand me down from my father's mercenary days. 'Always keep a ranged weapon on you, you never know when one will save your life,' he would say. How about yours?”
He doesn't respond, I think that subject might be a bit touchy from the look on his face, best leave that until after it's fixed. He draws the string with little trouble. How strong is that bow he's been using? He does fumble with the beltbox a little though, probably used to a quiver.
How has it never occurred to me to just pull each bolt out of my magic bag individually before? FOCUS!
I move ahead. Its hard to keep silent in the muddy ground, but I manage not to raise any obvious suspicion as I creep forward. I can hear them clearly, at least two men talking, they're frustrated by our erratic patrol schedule. Probably at least four from the sound of footsteps, they aren't cautious at all right now. Keeping low, I peek around a thick bush.
Three men, poorly armed. Patchwork leather armor slightly modified to keep brush stuck to it for camouflage. I definitely heard enough footsteps for four before.
The familiar crack of my crossbow being fired, a yell of pain, and a body falls behind me. Knife out, he must have heard me, and decided to check it out silently.
“That came from over there!”
“Sounded like Kestral yelling.”
Good shot from Stanton at least, looks like a fight is inevitable now, though. I pull out my halberd and stand to face them.
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