The bandits soon had a crude spit set up, sliding a pot over it to make a travel decent meal. From the smell that soon wafted in the air, it was a serving of potatoes and cabbage, perhaps with a few chunks of locally hunted game. No heady spices salted the air, probably too expensive to buy and too difficult to steal. The men muttered in low voices, though less to keep secrets from their new cargo and more from habit in keeping a low profile and partial exhaustion from 'work'. Their voices did raise briefly, once to argue over whether they should split the profits after their 'goods' were sold, or if they should split the items now. The other time was to argue over who had first watch while the others got to eat and rest. It finally led to one man cursing as the other guffawed and turned their back on him to focus on the paltry soup starting to boil.<br/><br/>At the sound of heavy footsteps cut the bandits' chatter, all of them looking up as their lookout stood to unsheathe his weapon. A man burst into the makeshift camp, dirt and shallow cuts covering his arms, his face ruddy and gleaming with effort. He panted before hefting a chest up triumphantly. The chest fit his arms fairly well, and though it wasn't ornate, it seemed to be clean, and have a sturdy working lock. The bandits cheered, ushering the man into the light of their fire before huddling together to see what was contained within. A rock brought down swiftly destroyed the clasp holding the chest shut. Apparently, these men were very accustomed to this kind of work.<br/><br/>Within, laid out carefully in a bed of soft cloth and tied down with buttery soft leather thongs, were three ornate daggers, their sheaths neatly laid to the side. While the blades gleamed sharp, it was the hilts that caught the eye, carved in the shape of a screaming lion and each decorated differently with fine jewels. Doubtless, it was probably a gift to some noble house as a visible sign of status. The bandits nudged the newcomer, demanding to know how he'd chanced upon such a find. He had found it in a wagon, the owner appeared to be at the nearby well to water his massive horse. The bandit couldn't see him too well in the setting light of the sun. He had been more focused on retrieving the chest and returning to their agreed upon place.<br/><br/>Of course, hunger soon set them all back to the pot. Pretty as the daggers were, coin was prettier. One of the men soon trudged to where Mesut was kept, tossing the chest against the wheel of the cart he was set upon. Unlike the others who had been present at Mesut's capture, he nearly shouted in alarm before noting the bag over the naga's head, arms bound behind his back. The sound of the man shuffling closer could be heard before a finger cruelly dug into the side of Mesut's wounds. A booming, "Leave it alone!" was shouted, and hurried boots returned to the campfire. As before, an argument started up, the man bearing the chest opposed to toting around a monster.<br/><br/>Perhaps it was their shouting that made them unable to feel the ground start to quiver. It wasn't until it got stronger that someone screamed for silence. And by then, the heavy hoof steps were too close. Chaos erupted as something crashed into the camp with a heavy stomp. Men screamed as the sharp screech of weapons being drawn filled the air, other footsteps dashing into the underbrush. The hooves stomped a violent beat, and from the sounds of cloth tearing, wood splintering and metal clashing, whoever had ridden into the camp had used their element of surprise well. An angry shout, the voice foreign heavy with foreign lilt, answered the bandits' panicked or enraged screams, accompanied by wet splashes or dull thuds.<br/><br/>The fight only lasted a moment, most of the bandits seeming to have opted to run. Those that hadn't were silent, or emitted soft groans that ended with a sharp crunch and the sound of a body rolling a few feet. Whoever had destroyed the camp was panting, but the hooves moved soon after, kicking, shuffling, scraping at dirt. They did a perimeter, taking their time searching for something when a tongue was clicked, the cart shuffling as the chest tossed against the wheels was dragged away. Whoever had taken the chest started to leave before pausing, shufling the horse closer to the cart before a hand gingerly prodded Mesut's shoulder.