[He still isn't sure if he can trust Pom to keep his head once they see Purl but he's going to have to, because there's no way he's going to stay back here unless Tav knocks him out and he really doesn't want to try resorting to that. Somehow, he has a feeling that it wouldn't go well for either of them.
Truth be told, the wily half-drow does know more than he's letting on. He knows, but he also recognises that Pom hasn't done anything wrong to him, he's been a good travelling companion, and Tav's past isn't exactly squeaky-clean either. Until it becomes a problem, as far as he's concerned it's no problem.
Pom can tell him as and when he needs to know.]
C'mon. Slow and quiet.
[Tav moves forward first, knowing Pom can see over his head, and works his way down towards the end of the tunnel. As they go the voices at the other end get louder, clearer, and Tav is able to pick out half a dozen different ones. They're outnumbered - this is going to have to be tactical.]
[Pom follows Tav carefully, quietly, closing his eyes behind his glasses once they pause so he can listen: he picks out different timbres, different voices, at least five or six. There's a snarl -- Purl. Another voice, a little smoother than the rest: that one talks like they know what they're doing. Catering to bad habits, Pom gnaws on his lip, biting hard enough to draw blood; still trying to focus, Pom puts his thumbnail to his lips instead, chewing it so he can see something other than red.
At the end of the tunnel, the group argues about where to go and what to do next. Two talk about swinging through the marsh to avoid suspicion, letting the wetlands hide their tracks; another wants to skin Purl right there, thinking that bringing here anywhere alive is too much of a risk, and that they might as well get a good pelt out of their troubles. He saw what happened at the camp -- he's one of the ones who got away, Pom surmises -- and knows no tabaxi money is worth their lives.
The smoother voice speaks: they're a mage of some sort, judging from what little Pom can make out of their outfit once he opens his eyes, fixating on the group ahead. They insist she's got more value than a mere tabaxi, something the rest can't see, and should be taken alive because of that.
Gods, does Pom hate hearing them talk about her like she's little more than a piece of meat or a fur to be traded. His gaze settles on Tav, the orange of his eyes barely visible above his glasses: even in the dark, they burn like fire.
They have to play to their strengths. They're both handy enough with their weapons but neither of them are going to be able to take enough damage to hold up if the tide of this turns against them. He needs to make sure Pom doesn't lose it, that they can keep Purl from being hurt for long enough to get to her, and preferably make sure not a single one of these bandits makes it out of this cave alive.
Tav crouches, putting his fingertip to the dust on the floor of the cave. He outlines a quick set of tactics - they split up, flank the group from both sides. Tav creates a diversion while Pom heads in to get Purl, and then once they know she's safe...
Well, that much can be left to Pom himself, Tav is quite sure.
The half-drow chews his lip slightly. With the clock ticking, they don't have the time to sit here and debate. He tilts his head towards the cavern ahead.]
[Tav gets no debate at all; Pom accepts the tactics as presented, nodding before he's on the move for his part. Despite the metal on his boots, he slides along one side of tunnel, stalking in the shadows along the earthen wall like a predatory beast. Though he puts on a colorful facade most of the time, his voice as loud as his attire, he can be apparently be silent as the grave when he needs to be. It's not the behavior of someone trying to be quiet when they're unaccustomed to it, but the precise movement of someone trained in such methods.
He stops once he's near the party holding Purl, waiting for Tav to create an opening, his hand poised around him to grab his knife upon the signal.]
[The opening does not take long and is very obvious when it does. With a small gesture of his hand and a whispered word, darkness falls across most of the cavern. The bandits cry out in alarm, scrambling for weapons that they can't find in the inky blackness, and in his careful placement of his spell Tav had left a path around the edge of the area open for Pom to move around and snatch Purl away.
It's not a perfect plan, but neither of them are built for extended close combat and Tav would rather have this be over quickly.
He has a feeling they're going to be sorry they ever touched Purl by the time Pom is done wih them...]
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no subject
[He still isn't sure if he can trust Pom to keep his head once they see Purl but he's going to have to, because there's no way he's going to stay back here unless Tav knocks him out and he really doesn't want to try resorting to that. Somehow, he has a feeling that it wouldn't go well for either of them.
Truth be told, the wily half-drow does know more than he's letting on. He knows, but he also recognises that Pom hasn't done anything wrong to him, he's been a good travelling companion, and Tav's past isn't exactly squeaky-clean either. Until it becomes a problem, as far as he's concerned it's no problem.
Pom can tell him as and when he needs to know.]
C'mon. Slow and quiet.
[Tav moves forward first, knowing Pom can see over his head, and works his way down towards the end of the tunnel. As they go the voices at the other end get louder, clearer, and Tav is able to pick out half a dozen different ones. They're outnumbered - this is going to have to be tactical.]
no subject
At the end of the tunnel, the group argues about where to go and what to do next. Two talk about swinging through the marsh to avoid suspicion, letting the wetlands hide their tracks; another wants to skin Purl right there, thinking that bringing here anywhere alive is too much of a risk, and that they might as well get a good pelt out of their troubles. He saw what happened at the camp -- he's one of the ones who got away, Pom surmises -- and knows no tabaxi money is worth their lives.
The smoother voice speaks: they're a mage of some sort, judging from what little Pom can make out of their outfit once he opens his eyes, fixating on the group ahead. They insist she's got more value than a mere tabaxi, something the rest can't see, and should be taken alive because of that.
Gods, does Pom hate hearing them talk about her like she's little more than a piece of meat or a fur to be traded. His gaze settles on Tav, the orange of his eyes barely visible above his glasses: even in the dark, they burn like fire.
He mouths:]
What's the plan?
no subject
They have to play to their strengths. They're both handy enough with their weapons but neither of them are going to be able to take enough damage to hold up if the tide of this turns against them. He needs to make sure Pom doesn't lose it, that they can keep Purl from being hurt for long enough to get to her, and preferably make sure not a single one of these bandits makes it out of this cave alive.
Tav crouches, putting his fingertip to the dust on the floor of the cave. He outlines a quick set of tactics - they split up, flank the group from both sides. Tav creates a diversion while Pom heads in to get Purl, and then once they know she's safe...
Well, that much can be left to Pom himself, Tav is quite sure.
The half-drow chews his lip slightly. With the clock ticking, they don't have the time to sit here and debate. He tilts his head towards the cavern ahead.]
Ready?
no subject
He stops once he's near the party holding Purl, waiting for Tav to create an opening, his hand poised around him to grab his knife upon the signal.]
no subject
It's not a perfect plan, but neither of them are built for extended close combat and Tav would rather have this be over quickly.
He has a feeling they're going to be sorry they ever touched Purl by the time Pom is done wih them...]