[h3]Freagon, Irah, Lhirin, Yanin, Jaelnec, Nabi, Jordan and Madara – Fadewatcher station, Borstown – Collab[/h3]
Jaelnec looked from Irah to Nabi with a sheepish smile. “Thanks... I think?”
Without turning around to look at his page, Freagon said: “We need to talk after we're done here and before we leave, boy. Outside.” There was something in his master's voice that Jaelnec struggled to identify, perhaps because he had likely never heard it before. Was it his imagination, or did Freagon sound... apprehensive?

Lhirin shook his head ever-so-slightly, indicating that Irah hadn’t really missed much. After all there’d been no traces of magic use at Bren’s house and they’d already gone over that they didn’t think the mercenaries had any such practitioners. Besides…the assailants had already been gone for a time when he and Irah had arrived, so even if there had been traces, they were likely long gone. Frowning slightly, Lhirin began quietly clicking his teeth together as he worked his jaw, almost as if chewing, lips still closed as his intense gaze bored into the floor. There was an air of intense focus on his features…as if he were running calculations of some kind in his head.
After another beat, Lhirin began to speak—quickly, enough so that it would be difficult to immediately process the first few words that left his lips, such that anyone listening would be playing catch up as he spoke. “Patrols to the west the most consistent, but also the furthest from where Bren and any injured are likely to be located. Outnumbered by a fair deal, but no sign of any mages among their number so far. No mercy necessary.” Lhirin’s eyes rose, regarding the map in a way that indicated not his referencing it, but something else. His delicate hand practically whipped up as he stepped closer to the table and pressed a single digit to the thick black line representing the tree line to the south, just beneath where the Farmstead was.
“Here is the fastest point of ingress to imply confidence in our ability to dominate their forces. It also puts us on a straight path to the farmstead, where Bren, perhaps their leader, perhaps any wounded are likely to be situated.” Where someone else may have paused there, Lhirin gestured towards Freagon, Yanin, and Nabi. “Leading a charge towards the farmstead, or towards any patrols or enemies already equipped with crossbows or arrows is likely best left to our most accomplished physical fighters, such as you three. Irah is running low on energy, I suggest she stay back in the tree line and provide support as necessary or able. Miss Lady Bor can take up a position near her in the treeline, if she wishes to utilize her crossbow from the tree cover.”
Lhirin’s gaze shifted to Caleb, his eyes almost burning with an intense silver flame, “If there are reinforcements in the barn, I think you’d be best suited to handle them. Merely emitting your energy is a deterrent, your body is potent enough, I figure, and any magics or additional summons you can bring to bear could utterly stun, disable or harry anyone who exits.” At that point, Lhirin fell silent, his eyes darting over to Quintin, before looking away just as fast. The man seemed competent…based on his being employed by the baroness, what of his skills and past Lhirin knew—as little as that was—but he wouldn’t presume where he’d be best utilized since he didn’t have enough information. He also figured that Sir Yanin and Freagon would be best suited to decide how their subordinates were positioned. Notably though…he’d said absolutely nothing about what  he’d be doing. It was hard to tell if that was deliberate or not.

Freagon stared at Lhirin as he spoke, his expression as unreadable as ever. Only when the deigan finished did he raise his left hand, initially closed in a fist, only to extend his index-finger. “That is the fastest point of ingress, but also one with direct line of sight to the central yard, where any guards are likely to be. We'd be spotted taking out the patrol.” He extended his middle-finger. “While we're fighting the guys outside, the guys inside are free to kill the healer.” He extended his thumb. “You're assuming the healer and the wounded are in the farmstead. It all falls apart if they're in the barn.” His ring-finger. “Even if you're right, we'd be fighting at a choke point in the doorway once we're ready to enter. And while we're doing that, they'll definitely kill the healer.” And finally, he extended his pinky. “There are two exits to the barn. I doubt the thalk could handle both.”
“I will also remind you,” Caleb interjected, “that the instant I move I have no magic, and will have to siphon new divine energy all over again. I will lose control of anything I have summoned, any magic I was sustaining will be dismissed, and it will be a while before I could permeate the area with divine energy or use magic again. And while I am probably stronger than your average human, I am no fighter. I doubt I would even delay them much.”

“Simply assaulting them has many avenues for failure. Madara's medicines have some potential, but many of them appear to be topical--and that renders their use lesser... Besides, I'd prefer not to use up our surgeon's stock. I am perfectly capable of brewing a poison with fairly common ingredients, and failing that it should be easy to find something in the forest on our way there, if we wish to take that route. With Freagon being immune to the Swaigh's aura, he and I could walk in and incapacitate everyone before they have much of a chance to react. Our primary advantage is, I think, the element of surprise: we should keep that as intact as possible. Does anyone have a better idea than incapacitating enemies with Weriz and letting Freagon work, or administering poison to everyone? Even if Bren dies, so long as he holds on, I should be able to revive him with Kinder's aid--but we should avoid giving them the chance. Martial confrontation with a band of mercenaries who have much more cohesion than we do seems... Inefficient, as Lhirin would say.” Irah opined, looking mostly at Sir Freagon. All in all, she had to concede that he seemed to have the best grasp on most aspects of the situation, and his immunity was quite the boon.

Freagon crossed his arms and stared at the map. “There's no scale on this. How far is the far sides of the farmstead and barn from each other?”
Quintin chewed his tongue for a moment. “50-60 meters.”
Nodding his head, Freagon concluded: “So even if we got the swaigh perfectly centered on there, it still wouldn't get everyone in range. And that's assuming none of the bandits are immune. It can still take out a big chunk of them, but Angels of Fear aren't exactly subtle either. Anyone left standing will know something is up.”