Victor has been working the King's Road with his crew for a few weeks now. They found an old rundown house about two hours off the road they’ve been using as a hideout. Easy to get back and forth without being seen. They keep a man posted up in a blind several trees off from the main road picking targets. Things have been going swimmingly since patrols have slowed. No idea why that’s happening but Victor chocks it up to good fortune. Most travelers are willing to part with some coin or goods just to keep it moving. He assumes they’ll run this grift for another month or so before moving on. A shame to leave such a good spot but Victor knows the ten of them will get caught by the guards if they stay here much longer than that. One day Jim, the man posted to keep watch that day, spots a ripe prize that Victor just couldn’t pass up.

  “Tell Vic we’ve got a solo traveler with what looks like a heavy burden.” Jim called out.

  “I’m on it.” Said Pauly, who ran off to tell the crew hidden nearby.

  “What’s it look like Jim?” Victor asked as he sauntered up to the tree.

  “There seems to be a single dark skinned man with a ridiculous number of bags all over him. He’s moving really slow. Must be half a trading stall in those bags. Maybe this one just doesn’t make it home, eh Vic?” Jim said.

  “Are you sure he’s alone?” Vic asked as he plays with the ornate dagger he found in the dilapidated house.

  “I’ve been watching him trudge along for about thirty minutes now. He’s all alone. Should be by the big rock in about ten minutes. At this rate we should probably go meet him instead of an ambush.” Jim said.

  “No, I think we’ll wait, that way we don’t have to carry all that stuff all the way back.” Victor scoffed.

  There were only five of the crew here now. Victor left the others back at the house to rest up. Five should be more than enough for today's work. Maybe this man would have some valuable jewelry on him. Not likely. Any merchant that rich would have a carriage. He hoped it wasn’t some farmer's brat with a load of potatoes or something. As the mark got closer, Vic noticed he was hunched over by all the bags strewn about his person. That can’t be good for you. Maybe he broke a wheel on cart and had to leave it behind. Vic doubted this one would be missed. He gestured over to the crew to take their places and gave them the “No survivors” sign.

  Deacon's back started to hurt, not because all the rocks in the bags were too heavy but because he had to make it look believable, he was encumbered. Who came up with this dumb idea? Oh yea, it was him. He thought that big rock would make a good ambush spot. Thanks to Typhus’s careful scouting they found the bandits location near the road and set up this little ruse. Deacon hoped it would be a good training opportunity since the chances simple road bandits had an enchanted weapon were minimal. Not five minutes later he noticed someone step out from behind the rock. Thank Cheshire, he didn’t have to keep hunching over anymore.

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  “Leave the bags and we’ll let you leave with your life.” The bandit called out.

  Deacon slowly laid the bags down around his person and heard someone come out of the forest to his back left. So far, he’d only seen two of them, but he knew there five out here. He decided to antagonize them a little.

  “Oh yea, what are you going to do if I don’t?” he said.

  “Have it your way. I was trying to be nice but now we’ll have to kill you.” Said the bandit.

  “You and what army?” Deacon asked knowing full well that question has been the downfall of so many would be tough guys.  

  “This one.” The bandit said as two more slinked out of the tree line.

  Now we are talking. That leaves one in the trees that the others can clean up. One of these guys had a baton like weapon. The guy behind him had what looked like a stiletto dagger. The second guy to come around the rock had a bejeweled knife, and the first bandit had a short sword. The guy with the stiletto went for Deacons back and caught a spinning back fist to the face. Deacon felt his nose break and saw teeth fly forward into the baton wielders face. That made the man stumble mid swing. Deacon used that opportunity to kick him center mass followed by saying, “This is Sparta!”. That kick was at full strength sending him flying into the rock with a sickening splat. As the blood ran down the rock Victor was doing some mental calculations and didn’t like his odds with this stranger.

  “Don’t run.” Deacon yelled out firmly planted in his ring of bags.

  “Who said anything about running.” The sword guy said as he slowly advanced on Deacon.

  Deacon thought this would be a great time to test out his new aura. He pushed his energy into the space outside his body coating the ground with a thin layer of ice. As soon as sword guy, Deacon didn’t catch any names, reached the boundary of his aura Deacon just knew. He could feel his relative position with respect to Deacon’s center. As he swung his sword Deacon lifted his left arm in a block motion taught to him by Robert. He connected solidly with the sword arm and followed up with a right jab to the assailants sternum. There was a crack followed shortly there after by a geyser of blood fountaining from his mouth as he fell backward. The smashed faced bandit from the beginning of the fight got back up but slipped on the ice being created by Deacons aura. He must have been completely disoriented from his injuries because he didn’t even get a hand in position to stop his fall. His head landed right on one of the bags. Broke his own damn neck. Deacon turned back to the rock.

  “You with the nice dagger. I have a question for you. Front hand or back hand?”