Brian hunkered down at the edge of the treeline. To his left, Ylva. His right, Calvin. Hector and Tiffany crouched a step behind him. A week had passed since his little study session and shopping trip with the girls. Now, it was back to work on a brand new assignment.

Before them, in a clearing atop a shallow embankment, rested a lone steeple. It lay still and silent, a forgotten symbol of some bygone era. But Brian knew better. They all did. Their task on this day was to oust some bandits from this abandoned church. It once belonged to a group of Sarenrae worshipers, but a fire saw it abandoned long ago. The stained glass window depicting the armored, winged deity remained mostly intact, only a few holes to mar the surface.

"So, what's the plan?" He asked when the silence became monotonous.

"Well," Hector began, "Once again, I don't really see any way of sneaking in there. If these bandits are as entrenched as the contract suggests, they'll make us the moment we leave the trees."

"Do you think they'll come out and get us?" Brian asked.

Ylva shook her head. "No, they'll stay inside, fight us on their terms. It's safer for them."

"So, we do what we always do, then. Run in, fuck shit up, get out," supplied Calvin.

Tiffany huffed from behind them. "Just once I'd like the option to take a stealthy approach."

"Hector's old, Brian's clumsy, and I jingle like Santa Claus. No offense, guys," Ylva said. "I don't think we're ever sneaking much of anywhere."

"Well, still," insisted Tiffany. Brian couldn't see her, but he somehow knew she'd crossed her arms.

"That settles it, then," Hector stood up. "Standard formation, everyone. Let's get this over with."

Standard formation required a bit of jostling. The front line shuffled around a little. When done, they stood Calvin-Brian-Ylva, ten feet between them with Tiffany and then Hector filling the gaps five feet behind. This was the stance Ylva designed for the fight against the wolves. Strange, how long ago that quest felt.

With a moment to gather nods from the men at her sides, Ylva took the first step forward and out into the open. Brian half expected a hail of arrows to meet them the moment they appeared. What happened instead was... nothing. In a way, that was even worse. An immediate assault removed the tension from the moment. He could focus on the fight and forget about the approach. With no fight to focus on, all he could do was peer into every nook and cranny with the utmost paranoia.

Though in reality short, the distance to the church felt much longer than it was. The only remnants of the fire which raged this long and narrow building were the scorch marks on the burned stones. Structurally, save for a collapse in the back of the left wall, it was mostly intact. Grass had grown back over the scorched earth, and vines covered the exterior. There were even a few bushes scattered here and there. From outside, it looked like a normal, completely innocuous ruin.

With every step, Brian's heart rate increased. This was always the worst part, in his minimal experience. The calm before the storm was hardly calm at all. He spent every second of it stressing out of his mind, waiting for something—anything—to go wrong. The bandits could attack at any moment, despite Ylva's most likely accurate tactical assessment. Brian wouldn't relax until the battle began. Then, a new kind of worry would replace it, but at least it was one he had a say in directing. Here, he walked at the mercy of his enemy. He hated the way that felt.

They reached the door of the church. Or, where the door would be if it still had one. Brian expected Ylva to pause for a second and take the lay of the land. But, no, she just pressed right in. The party passed two at a time behind her before fanning back out to formation immediately once through the threshold.

Brian didn't like what he saw on the inside. Though, it was more or less what he expected. The stone floor was mostly devoid of furniture. Only a couple pews remained. Two human bandits stood directly in front of him, damaged swords drawn. On the opposite side, closer to the back wall, menaced another pair with crossbows drawn and pointed. One of them appeared to be a half-elf. Along the center line, atop a raised dais doubtless used for sermons, stood an obvious wizard in long robes, blue in the front and white at the sides. A big brute of a thug guarded him.

Looking over all of this, a man sat in a chair balanced in the exposed rafters. He wore leather armor and a sword at his hip. Shaggy blond and blue eyed, he was handsome in the way rugged scoundrels tended to be. This must've been their captain.

"Travelers!" He called and spread his arms out wide. "Welcome to our humble abode. I don't any family crests or golden chains, so you must be from the Adventurer's Guild. Truly, we are humbled that such a prestigious organization would honor us with an audience." He spoke well, for a bandit. Brian wasn't sure if that bade well or not.

"We accept your gratitude," Ylva said in a way which made it obviously an insult.

"But of course, fair maiden," returned the captain. Ylva bristled at the title. "Now, I hate to be so curt, but I must ask you to leave. We don't take kindly to uninvited guests around these parts."

"Not happening," Calvin said.

"Then you leave us no choice but to engage."

"It doesn't have to end this way," Hector said. "Our contract is to remove you from this location, not kill you outright. If you leave in peace, no one has to get hurt."

"And what right do you have to demand our retreat? Why should we leave these lands just because you said so?" Reasoned the captain.

"This isn't your land," Ylva fired back.

"It isn't yours, either. It belongs to no one, which means anyone is free to take it."

"Does that also give you the right to attack travelers and raid the nearby farms?"

"We do what we must to survive, just like you all."

"I'm sorry, but I can't accept that." Ylva drew her sword. "We have a job to do, and we will do it." She nudged her shield into her other hand.

"Then we will meet you with arms. Get 'em, boys!"

At the captain's orders, the bandits surged forward. The rest of the party drew their weapons, prepared to fight.

Tiffany immediately dashed over to duck behind the remnants of a pillar to her right. The intent had been to hide, but as she crouched down, her eyes locked with that of a crossbowman. So, maybe she wasn't so hidden. In an attempt to take out the one who'd just spotted her, she aimed her own weapon and fired at him. The bolt grazed him, but still cut a deep gash in his shoulder.

Ylva charged straight up to the bandit furthest on the right. The man seemed taken aback by her sudden reckless attack. He leveled his weapon to swing, but doing so left him open. Ylva took a split-second to line up her shot, and then plunged her sword downward through his heart and out his lower back. His mouth opened in a quiet scream of terrified agony. With a sneer, Ylva withdrew her blade. The smote bandit fell.

The bandit mage hated to see two of his companions attacked, and one killed outright. He held out his left hand, palm forward. With the right, he made circles around it. One, two, three, four, until the palm glowed with yellow energy. A shout of something in Sylvan, and the energy released. A quartet of magical darts rocketed from the hand, flying in erratic overlapping patterns. Try as she might, Ylva couldn't keep track of the dizzying projectiles. They slammed into her one right after another, their force transferring from her armor to the flesh and bone beneath. She grit her teeth against the pain, swaying on her feet, but refused to topple.

The crossbowmen moved up, marching shoulder to shoulder. They stopped just outside of Calvin's engagement range. One of them fired at the barbarian, but somehow managed to miss his target. The half-elf aimed at the obvious spellcaster. Hector saw the bolt coming at the last possible second. He threw up his right hand, a trail of sparkling purple behind it. The bolt shattered against the magical shield.

His attention drawn to his big friend, Hector could see things were about to get very bad for Calvin. May as well even the playing field, then. He removed some powdered iron from his pouch and tossed it at the barbarian. At the same time, he clapped his hands together and uttered a few words. He separated his hands as if they were a big mouth. In doing so, golden light raced forth from him to catch the iron. The effect covered Calvin. His size began to swell, double, and then triple, until he towered over the battlefield. He seemed confused for a moment, but then gave Hector a mischievous grin.

Good thing, too, as the situation for him went from bad to worse. Breaking free from behind the crossbowmen charged a halfling, clad in leathers and with an axe bigger than he was. The new threat held his weapon at full length and directed it toward Calvin's knee. The barbarian swept his great club low, deflecting the attack.

Calvin answered the attack against him with one of his own. He brought his now massive great club crashing down on the halfling berserker. It caught a shoulder. For a wonder, nothing in the little man snapped, but the hit clearly winded him.

In keeping with what Hector had told him not long ago, Brian made his way over to Ylva. He only made it a few steps before a distinct metallic ting cut through the din of battle. Brian looked down to see his foot on a pressure plate. His brain barely had time to process what this meant before a creaking whoosh drew him to the tree trunk swinging from the roof straight toward him. The wood hit him square in the chest. He uprooted and flew back several feet, though managed to land back on his balance.

Now notably panting, and with great effort behind every movement, Brian continued on to Ylva. His chest was on fire, likely from several broken ribs. But, he pressed on. No amount of pain could stop him, not when his friends needed the help only he could provide. He tapped Ylva on the shoulder to allow some divine magic into her system. Brian couldn't see any visible wounds on her heal, but the smile she gave him confirmed he'd done his job.

The thug guarding the mage knew a healer when he saw one. He charged up to Brian, swinging his mace with reckless abandon. The cleric managed to put his shield before the first attack, but the thug was strong. The strike knocked his arm to one side, opening him up for the follow-up strike. Brian took an upsweep the to the kidney. The shockwaves rippled through his broken ribs. He cried out and stumbled a step, all he could do to remain upright.

Spurred to action, the remaining bandit swordsman moved to the opposite side of Ylva. He supplied a horizontal slash. The shieldmaiden moved her shield across to block it, and then followed up with a stab straight down the middle. Just like his comrade before him, this bandit also fell to her blade.

Tiffany saw the situation unfolding by Calvin, and also deemed it to be of utmost importance. She reloaded and fired at the berserker. Her shot went wide.

"Fuck!" She shouted, driven to cursing by the sheer frustration of a miss at the worst of times.

Ylva knew she had to lock down the enemy wizard. She broke from the thug and approached him, receiving a mace to the back for her efforts. No time to worry about that now. The healing Brian provided allowed her to ignore the attack and press on. The bandit mage threw his hands out in a desperate attempt to shield himself, but—unarmed and unarmored—he was defenseless to stop her. Ylva cut through his chest, a blow that cleaved both his heart and a lung. There would be no recovery for him.

The berserker had the presence of mind to utilize his forced downward momentum. He swung upward. His axe dug into Calvin's calf. The barbarian grunted, surprising himself with how loud his voice sounded. No transgression could go unpunished, so he smashed the halfling again, but still failed to unseat his opponent. Tenacious little bastard.

Hector summoned his bat, Noche, and whispered in his ear. The fey creature flitted off to fly around the head of the leftmost crossbowman. Hector used the momentary distraction to attack. He placed a drop of water atop his staff. He made a diagonal slice down through the air, trailing blue behind, and then thrust straight forward. A shard of ice rocketed toward the currently harried man to bury itself in his heart. The bandit looked down just in time to see it explode. The detonation left a cavity in his chest, while shards flecked the other crossbowman as well as the berserker.

Brian, thoroughly battered and barely on his feet, locked eyes with the thug assailing him. One hand gripped his holy symbol. The other, the man's neck. Black tendrils climbed down his arm and into the thug. Whatever confidence the man felt turned to panic. He coughed and wheezed, clawing at Brian's hand. His mace flailed around wildly, but he lacked the strength to do any damage. The frantic attempts at life became slow and exhausted until the thug went limp in his grasp. Brian opened his hand. The thug hit the ground. A brief second to consider the life he snuffed out, before Brian moved up next to Calvin.

The remaining crossbowman looked from Brian, his fallen comrade, the dead thug, and back again. With only a second to decide his next move, he shot Brian through the arm and fell back to the cover of a pew several feet behind him.

A pair of bandit women wielding crossbows leapt down from holes in the ceiling. They landed on the same crossbeam the captain currently sat on, watching the battle unfold. One of them took a shot at Hector, but the wizard deflected it with another purple field. The other aimed at Brian. The bolt embeded facing downward in his shoulder, missing his neck by less than an inch. He had just enough time to feel the pain, for the fear to set in, before his world went black, and his face hit the tile.

Without a second's hesitation, Tiffany ran up to him. With one hand, she hauled the healing potion from her pouch. The other attempted to turn Brian over. She wasn't strong enough, however, and had to set the potion down and use both appendages to turn him onto his back. She ripped out the bolts in his arm and shoulder, then shoved the potion in his mouth before the wounds could bleed out. The punctures closed just enough to stanch the flow of blood. Brian's eyes fluttered open. He was weak, but alive. Tiffany gave him a tight smile before she transitioned to a knee and loaded her weapon, crouching sentinel over her downed friend.

Ylva smiled as an opportunity to use her newest toys presented itself. She dug out a javelin and hurled it at the crossbow bandit in the rafters, right of the captain. It had been a long time since she practiced throwing, and so her toss went wide. She sneered and summoned her strength to throw a second missile. This one obliterated the bandit woman's knee. It wasn't the javelin that killed her, but the back snapping fall onto a pew below.

She ran over to the crossbowman on the ground. The bandit dropped his weapon in favor of a shortsword. He took a chop at Ylva, but the fighter easily met it with her shield.

The berserker drew back his axe and lunged forward. He managed to carve through Calvin's shin. The barbarian answered with a wrenching slice of his club. This time, when the berserker took a hit, he did not stand back up.

Calvin went to help Ylva, but on the way he stepped upon a bear trap hidden within the rubble. The metal snapped up on his foot, but couldn't quite get a grip on its enlarged victim. The pain was like stepping on a thumbtack, annoying but easily ignored. Calvin carried on, sheering the trap to bits as he went. He came up on the crossbowman diagonally from Ylva.

Tiffany aimed at the remaining woman in the rafters. Her shot passed through an arm, severing muscle and tendon as it went, but didn't seem to do much damage.

Ylva struck at her opponent. Though assailed by two different opponents, the man still somehow had the facilities to parry the diagonal swipe.

Hector moved into range with the crossbow woman. This put him directly in the middle of the room. He uttered the magic words, drew his staff back, and thrust if out. All of this, while bold, was also rather obvious. The woman saw it coming from a mile away. To sidestep the attack proved rather trivial.

She could not, however, avoid what came next. Brian got to his feet. A hand on his holy symbol, he allowed yellow light to engulf his other outstretched arm. Words of praise for the King of Dragons, and the energy blazed toward the crossbow woman. She didn't even see the holy radiance that engulfed her. She gave a fleeting scream before the light of Bahamut reduced her to nothing but cinders. Ash rained down from where she just stood, glinting like snow in the afternoon sun.

Now alone in a room full of deadly fighters, the remaining crossbowman took his only option. He dropped his sword and ran. Ylva wasn't having it. She struck upward along his ribs as he turned tail. The sword bit deep. The force of it ripped him from his feet and sent him sailing off to one side. When he hit the ground a few feet away, he didn't move.

The bandit captain, having watched all of his men die one by one, took a final look at the battlefield before he stood and fled. He climbed up through the rafters with practiced motions, swinging from one beam to another, until he made it through a hole in the ceiling and out of sight.

"You're not getting away!" Ylva screamed after him.

The Norsewoman sheathed her sword. She ran up the raised dais the mage had been standing on, leapt off the railing, and grabbed the lowest beam. A feat of pure strength hauled her up one-handed. From there, she picked a path up toward where the bandit captain had just disappeared. A second before Ylva vanished from sight, Brian offered up some healing words for her. He prayed it would be enough.

Tiffany attempted to follow in the same manner, but slipped off the railing. Dumb luck allowed her to land on her feet. Ylva was well and truly alone to face down the boss.

The hole in the ceiling lead onto the roof. Ylva could see the captain running along the raised beam between where the two sloping sides of the roof met. She didn't know where he was going, nor did it matter.

"Hey!" She growled at him, stepping onto the beam. The captain slowed to a stop. With an air of irritation, he turned to face her.

"Persistent, aren't you?" He started to walk his way back. "You just had to interfere. Did their lives mean nothing to you? Are you such a slave to your contract, that you—"

"Shut the fuck up!" Ylva cut him off. "I'm through listening to your grandiose bullshit. You're nothing but a highwayman, another crook with a superiority complex. The contract doesn't matter to me, not anymore. I'm here to put you down, to stop you from hurting anyone else."

"Well said." The bandit caption looked genuinely impressed. "But I'm afraid this is where your journey ends. You aren't the first would-be lawman to try and kill me, and you won't be the last." He paused. "I like that sword. I think I'll take it from your corpse."

Ylva settled into a fighting stance, shield before her, sword hidden behind. "Come and get it, then."

"Gladly." The captain drew his arming sword.

The Ringleader opened the bout with a simple overhead slash. Ylva took it on her shield, countering with a cut from the left. Steel met steel as her sword was blocked. She whipped her blade around to swing from the opposite direction, but it met the same fate as the last. The bandit stabbed. His point met the metal bosse on Ylva's shield. She sliced vertically, and he faded back away from the blow.

The two squared off a few feet away from each other. Ylva presented her left side to the Ringleader, shield up and sword behind. The bandit, in contrast, didn't seem to know what stance he wanted. He switched from a fencing stance, to something that looked vaguely wushu, before finally settling on something with his weapon side out, pointed at Ylva's nose.

Bored with all this posturing, the shieldmaiden closed the distance. She used the obfuscation of her shield to poke a surprise stab at the bandit. He was late to respond, but still managed to bat it away with the base of his blade. To counter he swung back the other way. Ylva defended with her shield and answered with a vertical chop, only to clang against metal. The bandit tried to maneuver his weapon around to swing at her head, but she bashed his wrist with her shield. The swing was thrown way off line.

Ylva attempted to capitalize on her opening with a strike over her left shoulder. The Ringleader stepped out of the way. Ylva came again from the other side, and this time was blocked. The bandit kicked at her, digging his foot into the inside of her left leg. A combination of pain and the sudden force brought her down to one knee. The Ringleader went for her head. Ylva leaned forward and put her shield up high. While the implement caught the opposing blow, she thrust out her own weapon. The Ringleader's leather armor was useless to stop the blade passing through his abdomen.

A pained cry filled the air as blood ran down Ylva's sword. Reacting on what must've been pure instinct, the bandit unleashed a powerful push kick. It caught Ylva's shield and did no damage, but did manage to plant the woman on her rump. The sword slipped from her grasp to remain instead within the Ringleader. A bit of the reddened point stuck out his back.

Ylva got to her feet. The previous fight, combined with the run to this one, showed through the heavy breaths which passed her lips. The Ringleader fixed her with a hateful glare; a glance down at the weapon in his stomach and up again. Disarmed of said sword, Ylva set her shield and stepped forward. Just a little more, now.

The bandit met her with a diagonal swing. Ylva let it bounce off her defenses while landing a kick to his right thigh. He stepped back, cutting on the way. Again, his attack met wood. Ylva shoved him back. He let out a grunt from how the sword jostled within him. Though his steps backward were unsteady at best, he managed to stay upright.

Ylva continued to push the attack. The bandit was swinging wildly, now. He'd lost all martial sense. This, for him, was a fight for survival. He brought down a broad hack. Ylva met it early, deflecting it. In the same motion, she drew the seax from the scabbard at her tailbone. Holding it point-down, she sliced him from shoulder to sternum, then redirected to bury the dagger into the side of his neck.

The air escaped from his lungs in an admission of agony and defeat. The expression on his face flashed to one of shocked surprise, before sagging limp. Ylva removed her knife. The bandit fell backward. Hitting the roof forced the sword from his belly. It clattered against the singles, sliding a few inches before it came to rest against an edge. The Ringleader wasn't so lucky. His now lifeless body slid from the roof, trailing thick red blood the whole way.

Ylva gave a look for the spot where he fell. It had been a good fight and a well earned victory, but it for some reason left a pit in her stomach. She put away her seax, gathered her sword, and went to rejoin the others.