Dargoth and his band hid in the woods. A group of soldiers were escorting a covered wagon. Whatever it was was worth protecting. Dargoth grinned, revealing his Orcish tusks. He dropped his arm and four arrows flew silently through the air. They all hit their targets - 4 of the guards on horseback - sending all to the ground dead or close to it. With a bloodthirrsty yell, Dargoth charged forward on foot, his great axe swinging wildly side to side as he tore into the suprised Guards. The rest of his band descended from all sides on the Saravan, picking out their targets and engaging them in combat. It was a bloody affair, but it was over in a matter of moments, so great was their strength and suprise. Dargoth, and his bands of 7 bandits that were mostly human (Dargoth was an Orc, along with one of the others) all looked at eachother, some caked in blood not their own. With levels drawn, they tore back the canvas of the wago, wondering what riches waited for them on the inside.