Sitting in the crook of a tree, Tempest used her knife to pick the dirt out from under her fingernails. She was starting to get restless. Her and the men had been in this spot for almost 2 weeks now. That was way longer than normal. Normally, her band was in one place for 3 days, at the absolute most. It was dangerous to stay longer than that. Aside from the king, the heads of The Raven's Claws were the most sought after in the entire region--perhaps even in all of Fraet.
Tempest knew that the men were starting to get antsy and irritated with her for keeping them here so long. But she knew that carriage was coming. And when it came she wanted to be right there to annihilate the defenses and take everything for herself. Of course, she'd share the spoils with her men, as well, but the glory would be all hers.
She had spent 10 years building up the reputation of the entire band and now that the reputation was at it's highest, she was enjoying the spoils of the war. It was difficult to breach a royal carriage or traveling party, but lower classes who came upon the band would sometimes just abandon their things without a fight. Most of the time, Tempest wouldn't even have to show her masked face, which was good. Everyone knew that if you saw the infamous masked Raven you would not come back unharmed, if you came back at all.
She sighed. In fact, things around here were beginning to get boring. She was hardly ever worried about being caught as a woman now. Not like in the first couple of years where she had had several extremely close calls with the men. The men would walk in on her during the night, trying to tell her about something coming towards them and she had to cover her body and face very quickly. Of course, the men never went unpunished. The jar of fingers, toes, and a few hands in her tent was a testament to that. A few who had realized she was a woman never even had time to shout before their throats were slit. Eventually, the men learned that you didn't disturb The Raven unless it was extremely important, and only then after you had given her fair warning ahead of time.
Adjusting her mask and hood she relaxed back against the tree, watching the men lounge about the camp. A few were having an arm wrestling competition and she watched as the men placed wagers on it, throwing jeers at the competitors. That was her men, they were crass, rude, perverted, and smelly. But they were her band and she had earned their respect through years of blood, sweat, and tears. Well.... Tempest smirked, not tears. She didn't cry anymore. Not since the incident that left her with the need to permanently mask her face from prying eyes. But that was a very long time ago. It would seem like practically another life, had it not been the entire driving force behind her current predicament.
"Raven!" One of the men jolted Tempest from her musings. "Raven! I see it! It's coming, the carriage we've been waiting for." He was standing at the base of her tree, panting for breath. Looking around at the camp she saw every man was now on his feet. This was what they had been waiting for, she could almost see the tension radiating out from all of them. The Raven rolled her shoulders and stood up. With a predatory smile, she looked down at the scout that had warned them and the rest of the men.
"Perfect," Her voice rang out clear as a bell across the small clearing. Of course, over the years she had learned precisely how to deepen it into a convincing young man's voice. "Prepare yourselves men, Tonight we feast" The men let out a deafening, carnal roar. Smiling to herself, Tempest leaped to the ground, taking the rest of her weapons from the man waiting at the foot of the tree. "Move out." And as quickly and silently as possible, the clearing was cleared of any and all signs that it had ever been occupied. The men gathered their weapons and moved into their places, hidden on all sides of the road leading through the forest. Tempest's eyes glinted with a manic glee. This.... This would be fun.