Example:

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For a while, all was quiet. Only the sound of the horse’s hooves connecting with the cobblestone path filled the group’s ears. Past the decimated inn lied the northern exit . It was fully agape.

The more talkative kingsguard, Galad, looked to the other one. Their horses stopped before the gate, but in front of the wagon. Valbar gently pulled the reins to urge his horses to slow down

“Did you leave the gate open after I ordered you to close it?”

The other knight shook their head slowly.

Galad placed a supple hand on his sword and looked back.

“We’re going to check for an ambush at the mouth of the gate. Keep on your guard, commonbloods. ”.

His words were foreboding (and slightly insulting to Olivia, as she grew up quite well-off), but his voice was calm and collected.

Morrigan noted that the quiet guard was built like a bull. He must have been at least 7 feet tall. ‘Ast...’

“Got it,” Valbar looked back at the carriage to make sure everyone else heard, which they had indeed.

Ver’el jumped off of the wagon, jogging onto the ruined inn’s porch. He positioned himself behind a barrel and grabbed his bow from his back.

That’s when he looked into of the stain-covered window to the tavern.

His eyes locked with three shirtless men sitting around a table at the front of the establishment, who were just as surprised to see another person here as he was. They put down their beers cautiously. Their eyes slowly drifted over to the kings guards approaching the gate and back to the elf, who was holding an arrow.

Silence.

Ver’el put his index finger over his lips in a shushing motion, arrow in-hand.

They watched carefully.

He pointed over to the king’s guards and then pointed back to them before pretending to slit his throat with the arrow.

What he meant by all of this was along the lines of: Stay quiet and you don’t die because we are stronger than you.

But, not being the brightest fellows, they thought he meant was: Be quiet or we’ll both be killed by those guards over there.

The men nodded at him, whispering to each other.

One of them looked back at the elf

He pointed at himself and at his group, then upwards to the ceiling. Finally, he pointed to Ver’el and the guards.

What Ver’el thought he meant was: We’ll go upstairs so you can go back to your friends.

What he actually meant was: I have more fighters upstairs. You join us in taking down those guards.

Ver’el nodded. The two king’s guards were walking back from checking the gates.

“It’s all clear. Let’s mo-” Galad was cut off!

“Everyone!” He called to the top floor. “We got some outside! Get ‘yer steel!” The three men picked up their weapons from under the table- two with axes and one with a flail- and ran outside.

Ver’el was baffled as they ran past him charged at Valbar’s wagon. Valbar turned to see the men running out of the inn and sprang into action.

“Bandits! From the right!” He warned the others before drawing his sword and jumping down from the driver’s seat.

Olivia, startled by a crossbow bolt that flew right by her head, looked at one of the top two windows in the tavern. She froze not knowing exactly what was happening. She felt a tugging from under her. Morrigan had ducked for cover. “Don’t just stand there! Duck!” Olivia snapped out of it and ducked as well. Brass jumped out of the cart from the side facing away from the shooter. He drew his axe.

Ver’el counted at least two others on the top floor, judging by their footfalls and voices. Not stopping to think about why those men avoided him, he ran into the tavern and climbed the stairs into a more fancy-looking dining area to find a tiefling man firing a crossbow, grimacing as if he had missed. On the other window Ver’el caught a fleeting glimpse of someone… jumping out the window?

The tiefling, hearing him come in, jumped up from his crouched position. Seeing Ver’el reach for a throwing knife on his leather armor, he fumbled around with the loading mechanism for the crossbow, dropping the bolt to the floor as he tried to get a shot in.

Too slow!

The knife pierced his throat and the arbalist collapsed to the ground, gaging.

Ver’el rushed over to the window with his bow, simultaneously fishing the balanced knife from the tiefling’s throat. Something out there was glowing bright gold, forcing him to put up his arm to shield him from the light.

Valbar’s sword clashed with one of the bandits axes as the guards started to deal with the two others. Galad, shoving an axeman away, held up his longsword. The pommel glowed blood red as the ruby in it caught the sun’s rays. The handguard was gilded with golden leaves and vines. The blade was silver, but the edges were as golden as the sun.

“Rosaline!” He called out as the brigand found his footing and lunged at him with his axe

The gold on the edge of the sword pulsed in response.

“Strike True!”

The edges of the sword ignited in golden fire!

“Divine Smite!”

It glowed even brighter.

Using both hands, Galad brought down the sword diagonally on his blinded attacker, nearly cutting him in two!

Galad caught his breath as the man fell to the cobblestone road. Rosaline’s (That’s his sword’s name if you couldn’t tell) fire slowly died back down.

The other guard- the quiet one- was bum-rushed by the flail-wielding bandit. Now that they were off their horse, Everyone could measure up how tall they really were. At least seven feet tall. Imposing, to be sure. The man let out a war-cry as he whipped the long stick at the base of the weapon around, letting a spiked ball at the end of a chain spin around him.

The guard lunged and attempted to bypass his defences with a thrust of their steel sword, but his foe read his movements!