Arterial spray splattered hot on the Rogue's face as he cut the bandit's throat, nearly decapitating him and sending the man off the platform with a meaty<em>splat.</em>Peering down from the platform, he saw gravity finished what his blade started; a constant wash of dark blood was pumping out of the bandit's stump of a neck as his head rolled to the side. Silas smiled at his handiwork; it was always good to enjoy your job, and he<strong>loved it.</strong><br/><br/>An idle glance up at the chaos beyond wiped the grin off his face. Adelise was down, and Oriana had sprouted a thin, goosefeathered arrow from her shoulder, "<strong>Baator below this is getting out of hand</strong>" he cursed through gritted teeth as he made his way down the hill, racing to the ongoing battle beyond. As he approached, Oriana let loose a bedazzling array of color from her fingertips, the jarring kaleidoscope painful even from Silas's distance, causing the rogue to raise a bloody hand up to his eyes. When he lowered it, the battle was over; one bandit lay defeated and bleeding, the scarf-laden bobcat standing victorious above him. The others were writhing on the ground, limp save the occasional twitch as the effects of Oriana's light-show took effect.<br/><br/>Silas arrived just as Lydia was kneeling next to their fallen comrade, bringing one of their life-giving tinctures to her partially-opened lips to revive the Cavalier. Lydia asked for them to execute the survivors save the busty lass, but there was no need to ask; with cold efficiency Silas walked over to the bandit screaming for mercy, placing the tip of his blade on the center of his chest and pushing. The blade slid into the struggling man's flesh, and after a gurgle that sounded a lot like "quarter" the man coughed up a glob of blood and fell motionless. The scene repeated itself as Silas knelt down next to the twitching bandit, using his short sword to slit the man's throat with as much hesitation as slitting the throat of an injured animal.<br/><br/>"<strong>That was too close</strong>" he breathed as he used the hem of the dead bandit's shirt to clean his blade, sheathing the sword as he got up, "<strong>but we've just hurt the Stag Lord in a way I don't think he'll quite recover from, best of all...</strong>" He looked down at the unconscious Kressle, "<strong>... We've got his trusty lieutenant.</strong>"