"Options, yes. And we must choose the best, if we are to move forward with strength." Aris picked up a stick and drew symbols in the dust at his feet. "I favor joining The Fireguard. Two wins - arms and gold."
"Aye, but I answer to no man. 'Twould eat my soul. I long for the fray. Winebrook 'tis my vote."
"One hundred and twenty men against a fortification? We would be hard-pressed."
"Ya got that right, but what if, we appear to be more. We convince them to leave their sanctuary for fear of a siege and starvation."
"Old man, what are you thinking."
Jaren took the stick from Aris, and with his foot erased the symbols Aris had been drawing.
"This be the Castle Winebrook." He drew a square in the dirt. "Thirty men on all sides."
"Thirty will not give the look of strength we need. We need solidarity, a united front."
"Hush, boyo and learn from a master. Now, we march our men amongst the trees on three fronts - north, south and west."
"But the easiest escape is to the east."
"Aye, where thirty of our men lie waiting in ambush. We take the castle and the stores of those who flee. They wilst not leave gold and food behind."
"Still, thirty men..."
"Aye, thirty times thirty."
"Jaren, I fear that last knock on the head has played with your senses. How are thirty men to become thirty times thirty?"
"Illusion." Jaren laughed. "Illusion and stamina. On three sides our men will march in amongst the trees in clear view, but out of reach."
"Surely, that will reveal our numbers."
"Aye, but not if they march in view, run behind the trees out of sight, and return on the same march." Jared drew his plan. "Each man, appears to be thirty with an unending stream of troops, or so it shall appear."
"I see, at that distance they will not be able to see the details, just the movement, and we give them two options: vacate in safety or face our wrath."
"Indeed, and we take the spoils in the castle - "
"Old Lord Kefrir's rumored to be a bit unstable. Will he fight or will he flee?"
"You have not met the old reprobate. He is nothing more than a coward. He will flee if outnumbered. Like the rat he is, he will flee."
"And with our best archers to the east."
"They have not a wit of chance. 'Twill be a beautiful sight. What say ye?"
(424 words) *ckeckb*
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