"Okay," Johan says quietly, after having a look over through Naji's spyglass. "Four, and we assume four more in the farmhouse. Either they're busy or they're laying a trap, and the best way I know to deal with an ambush is a counter-ambush. Here's what we do. We send out a few vulnerable looking of us, enough to get their attention; stay out of easy attacking range, but close enough to shout. If they're friendly, they won't do much to you, and you can start trying to work out a deal. If not, you run back towards us in a panic. If we only send a few out, they probably won't sortie everyone. Worst case, they stay put and we have to plan again. If they do send part of their force out, we lie in wait for them. When they get close, Alura, you've got the ambush trigger. If you can aim it well, hit everyone but the one in the lead with glitterdust when they get close enough to pounce on, blind them and then open fire on any of them that tries to turn back. Thygor, you and I will take the center, and once Alura's worked her magic- in both senses," he grins, "You and I are going to charge into them from cover side by side. Break them with the shock before they can disengage and retreat to reinforcements. Nagendra, you'll be right behind us. Try to soften them up and if you can get one of the small ones in your stomach quickly and without slowing, do it. I'd rather be watching your rear than you mine, but hey, sacrifices have to be made. Cyria, stick near Alura in the back. If you can time it so you hit them with grease at the same time she hits them with glitterdust, they'll probably be incapacitated before the fight even begins. After that, make your way close and use your discretion. If any of us look like we're about to get eaten, hit the predator and put them to sleep."<br/><br/>Johan takes a deep breath. This was an early mark of favor, an independent command with a reasonably lucrative take. It was a simple problem, one with a solution right out of the textbook, and he knew that all their group had to do was execute properly. In a way, he'd been waiting for this since jumping ship from the Roughnecks a year ago; give a competent fighter with an acceptable amount of tactical know-how the banner and let him lead, and with success his star would rise... and he had an ideal group to celebrate with, after. This group was more like home than he'd had since he understood his parents' way was not his, and the feeling of contentment and comfort was an unusual, disconcerting one. He had to remind himself that being happy wasn't a threat, it was something to be enjoyed while it lasted. Today, Johan devoutly hoped, was not going to be the day where the pleasure stopped. he'd dressed appropriately; rather than the fancy, fine clothing he often wore to meals and for social situations or with customers, he had on his plain, faded greenish-brown tunic worn shiny and smooth from too much hard use and not enough mending. That was good- it blended in when worn over the thick breastplate, even if it looked funny. He didn't want the shine of bare metal to give him away in an ambush. "This should be fairly straightforward. Nobody eat anyone until we've won unless you can keep moving quickly with a full stomach. You others, you know yourselves better than I do. If you're not confident in your ability to fight, don't try. We've got the numbers advantage and they probably don't have allies, so don't take stupid risks. Just do what you do and we'll all get out of this richer and maybe fuller. Questions? Anyone has a tweak to the plan, speak up, I won't hold a grudge." He projects an open, innocent look; it would be better for his reputation to be open to subordinates than a close-minded tyrant, and he wasn't quite egotistical enough to think he knew all there was to know.