<strong>   Yelmed Melitia Force</strong><br/>When Quarion announces that the bush is magical, several of the soldiers back away from it, hands instinctively reaching for weapons. “You know what you're doing?” Masota checks with Erin.<strong>“Fucking wood elf magic, creeps me out,”</strong>one of the reserves spits. “You're an elf!” a militia member exclaims,<strong>“Yeah, a fair-folk, not a wood elf. I ain't dressed in deer skin and antlers with shit smeared in my hair,”</strong>she snaps back, which the others all acknowledge is a reasonable point.<br/><br/>With the fox freed and calling for Erin to follow it, Masota lays a hand on the half-elf's shoulder. “You're damn right I won't follow you,” he grins, then her face turns serious, “But be careful. And if you're not back in the hour, we're burning this bush down, not risking sending in more, but not leaving you either, so if you are caught, try to get near water or something,”<br/><br/>Erin follows the fox, and soon finds a small table, set with three mugs. One made of wood, one of tin, and the other of bronze, all brimming with a deep red substance that smells like wine. The fox dashes off through the undergrowth, too fast for Erin to follow through the thick bush.<br/><br/><strong>  Yelmed's Headstrong Youth</strong><br/>On quiet feet, Nephie  approaches the lone cedar and begins to climb. The elf seem half asleep, but it is difficult to move from branch to branch without some creaking, and there is less and less cover. Vanessë can only watch from behind a bush, praying the elf doesn't look down. Nephie manages to get within arms reach of the bandit, before the inevitable happens. The creak of the branch, the brush of leaves too strong to be the wind, and the elf looks down, and nearly jumps out of the tree at the sight of the goblin.<em>“What in Chelk's name...”</em>she reaches for an arrow.<br/><br/>OOC: Nephie and Vanessë, roll initiative. Nephie gets advantage on her roll.