<span style="font-size: 110%; line-height: 116%;">Brynn's movements slowed as the battle gradually slowed. She watched in content silence as the last few surviving bandits fled once their leader was slain. She cautiously surveyed the sea of bodies, both the dead and the wounded, making sure none still would hold a threat. Her blade appeared almost a rusty red, the normal blade's chestnut bronze was tinted crimson from the blood of the bandits. With two fingers, she flicked the blood off the blade in one motion. <br/><br/>She turned to face Briarwood's tent, just past where Ragnar stood. The uneasy feeling about the lord resurfaced, she just could not shake the feeling off. There was something off about the noble. <br/><br/>Brynn nodded in acknowledgment towards Finny before averting her focus back to the mess of bandits as Ragnar walked over to Finny, stabbing his sword into the ground, leaning up against his blade. <br/><br/>"Aye, sir." Ragnar glanced around at the bodies studiously. "Bandits or sellswords?" He asked Finny. </span>