Red Tiger Camp- two days later
"'Creepy', huh?"
"Very creepy. And foggy. I've never seen them scared like that before- there has to be something fishy going on in Polca..." Samantha drummed her fingers on the floor of the tent for a moment, thinking. "That said, we really should avoid it, for now. Whatever's happening there, there's nothing in the area worth risking our men over.
Which leaves us with Mileth and Ligoria. I'm not too sure about Ligoria, tho--"
"And Foomifart."
"Fiumefurt. And there's no way we're going there- it's too dangerous." She frowned, again absently drumming her fingers.
"Whatever. And besides, didn't you hear? The whole place is brimming with gold, silver, and jewels!"
"The whole place is a fortress, and it's practically on an island! That's the sort of place you attack with an army, not a band of bandits."
"Exactly! It'll be a heist, a grand heist! We rob them blind and we'll go down in history, and live like lords! Look at you, you're already plotting how to crack it. Besides, after tonight, we could very well have an army."
Samantha's hand freezes, and she stares at Liira, who's grin broadens ever so slightly. A few seconds pass in silence.
"...You're insane."
Later that day...
The motley bunch of bandit bosses had been led for nearly an hour in what seemed like circles through the forest, with the instructions "If ye value yer necks, keep quiet an' follow my lead.", while their guide gingerly stepped over and around innocuous-looking stones and branches, and- near the end of the trip- occasionally making strange bird calls into the forest.
Eventually, though, they arrive, to find a rough-cut table in the center of the camp bearing a modest feast, with the so-called "Red Tiger Gang"'s boss at the head- a strange looking green-haired foreigner, who, at second glance, turns out to be a woman, and younger than most of them. She's kitted out in full (if mish-mash) armor, though, with a sheathed claymore leaning against the table beside her- everywhere that isn't armored is almost naught but muscle and scars.
"Glad to see you could make it, gentlemen! Please, have a seat!" she gestures broadly at the dozen chairs around their half of the table.
Surveying the other leaders, she nods, almost inappreciably, to herself. Only two or three real warriors, but they're good ones.
When they approach the table, the old one-eyed man in the lead, her smile breaks out into her usual grin. "Storm Coast's finest, huh? I'm Liira, boss here. You?" she says cheerfully, leaning slightly over the table to extend a handshake to the grizzled bandit opposite her.