Appreciative murmurs come from the brutes as Iolanda removes the stolen cloak.  Their eyes almost create a tangible sensation as they gaze at her body, looking her up and down hungrily.  Eyes on her cleavage, eyes on the curve of her hips.  Crude laughter rises up from the back of the group as she approaches the leader; his leer at her deepens.  "Well well.  Guess it's going to be the easy way.  That's just fine with me."<br/><br/>As Iolanda presses her body against him, the brute wastes no time.  Strong hands slide down her back, gripping her curved backside, squeezing it as her lips press against his.  "This is gonna be good."  He growls, briefly pulling away from her kiss, only to press his lips roughly against hers once more.<br/><br/>His eyes shoot open as the knife sinks into his thigh.<br/><br/>For a moment or two, there is no sound.  The large man falls to the ground.  The remaining brutes look down at him, then up at Iolanda.  Another moment passes.  The man on the ground howls, dramatically breaking the silence, clutching at the bleeding wound with both hands.  The toughs, galvanized by the scream of pain, leap to the attack!