[centre][b]Calais Cousland 
Near the loch west of Deliar[/b][/centre]

The three rangers continued to follow the tracks until a dim light could be seen in the distance. Words did not need to be exchanged, for they all knew it meant that the bandits that they were following had set up camp for the night and managed to set a fire. An impressive feat considering the weather. They continued to trot along quietly in that direction for a short while until they came across a dark trail in the snow. [b]“Blood.”[/b] Wilson whispered having gotten off his horse to investigate further. Calais and Baldrick dismounted their horses as well whilst Wilson followed the blood into the nearby flora. [b]“A body. Naked. Completely without possessions. Looks like he was robbed and killed. Gods know what the poor bastard was doing out here.”[/b] Wilson continued as he stepped back out of the flora. 

[b]“Fisherman maybe? We can’t be far from the loch now. Still, it’s a bit strange.”[/b] suggested Calais as he took a quick look for himself. 

[b]“Matters little I suppose.”[/b] Sighed Wilson before taking each of the horses reins and passing them to his apprentice, [b]“Stay around here with the horses whilst we go take a closer look at these bandits. Is not that I lack your ability, it’s just we can’t afford to leave the horses unattended.”[/b]

Baldrick was clearly peeved by the order but did what he was bid without comment, leading the horses to the side and hitching them on a tree. Meanwhile Wilson and Calais quickly and quietly made their way towards the small fire. The two of them approached it from different angles, keeping a good deal of spacing between them. As Calais got within close sight of the fire he could see various figures huddled around it and the odd sleeping body just beyond. He crept incredibly slowly to a point that would have been almost painful to many, and even so ensured that he stayed behind cover as much as he could; if he could see them they could potentially see him. This continued until he was but metres away and sat with his back to a tree where he could hear their voices with almost crystal clarity. 

[b]“Fuckin’ gob shite! You-ve l-led us to a f-fucking icy grave! Ya said we’d be in D-Deliar by now.”[/b] complained one of them, clearly suffering the cold. 

[b]“Twas you that fucked up our plans! If you’d not been so careless at that farm, if you’d kept your manhood sheathed, we could have taken the roads. No one would have made us for deserters, no while there ten of us.”[/b] replied a gruffer yet clearly not quite so gutter-born voice. [i]Perhaps their leader?[/i] thought Calais. Slowly he began to tilt his head round the tree so he could take a glance, but quickly drew it back when he heard a scuffling from behind. 

[b]“What the fuck was that?!”[/b] came the gruff voice again along with the sound of men quickly clambering to their feet. There was a moment of silence before an all too familiar twang revealed the firing of a bow. A thud followed quickly and it was clear one of the bandits had been struck. Calais’ heart begun racing but he tried to remain calm and still, anxious that his breathing might give him away. Another twang followed from the same direction, and then another from the completely opposite direction. Two more thuds followed. By this point the bandits shock wore off and suddenly shouts and the ringing of metal swords filled the air. Calais took an arrow and quickly drew his bow whilst not moving from his seated position. Three men ran straight past him, close enough for him to have been able to reach out and touch them. They ran in the direction of what he assumed to be Baldrick. He waited a couple of seconds before firing a shot at the last mans back, causing him to cry out. The man just before him stopped quickly and turned almost instantly towards Calais, who had already begun to draw his next arrow. The man was clearly as terrified as he was angry and he charged at Calais with a wild scream, getting only feet away before Calais fired the well aimed (if not very late) arrow through the man’s neck, causing him to lose his footing and fall to his side before clutching desperately at his throat.

[b]“Son of a bitch!”[/b] came an almost deafening shout from Calais’ side, prompting him to try roll away and by some feat of luck happen to dodge a sword swing which became lodged in the tree. Calais cursed under his breath as he frantically tried to crawl away from his attacker, not quite able to find his footing in the snow. Knowing that the bow was next to useless now, he threw it to his side and rolled over to face the attacker as he fumbled for his saxe knife. By the time Calais unsheathed his small blade the furious attacker had managed to yank his sword free and now lunged towards his target, stabbing the blade down towards Calais’ stomach. With a slight roll and a slight deflection with his dagger Calais managed to divert the course of the sword but it still managed to slightly clip his side causing him to cry out. However, whilst the attacker was bent over with his hand on his hilt he was left vulnerable to the saxe knife which repeatedly stabbed at his neck and face, causing blood to leak out all over Calais before his whole body dropped on top of him. 

Less than a minute passed as he lay there but for him it felt like hours. Eventually the familiar face of Wilson towered above as he yanked the corpse off his friend. [b]“Shit. You alright lad? Things got a bit choppy there. You’re not hurt are you?”[/b] said the old man as he tried to distinguish what blood belonged to whom.

Calais nodded and placed his hand over the wound, [b]“Bastard clipped my side.”[/b]

Wilson helped him up and led him to the fire where he could see more clearly. Quickly removing the layers that covered the wound he make an assessment, [b]“Luckily your cuirass took some of the blow, but not much. He still took a few mil out of your side. No vitals though, so you’ll be fine. We just need to stop the bleeding… which is probably gonna hurt a lot more than the wound did”[/b]

Calais didn’t get a chance to respond as a piece of leather was shoved into his mouth. He went to remove it but suddenly he found his arms pinned down by Baldrick who had been otherwise quiet. Calais felt a horrible deep sinking in his stomach as he noticed Wilson heating his saxe knife on the fire. Rather than try fight it he simply looked away and did his best not to show weakness. At first he felt nothing, but quickly the terrible burning sensation came to him as Wilson cauterized the wound. He shook in pain for a moment before passing out.