The dark-haired man is about to give his name to Shara as he feels the mind of the drow knocking the the entrance of his, allowing him inside, listening to his voice. Unlike most he was used to hearing voices in his mind and this was actually a welcome change to the admonitions of his tiny blonde companion. He nods in agreement with what Vazo'yn suggests, about to suggest this to Shara as something unexpected happens...

"I will talk to them, just stay calm and where you are right now and don't give them any reason to hurt the old people please." He messages the others before calling out to the men across the field.

"Try to relax, you will have the horses. I must advice you to not hurt any of those old people, if anyone one of them is injured you will have their sons and daughters here chasing you to the end of the world and I know you don't want that. That being said, there's no need to hurt anyone here tonight, you can have all these horses, we won't need them and I'm sure the sons and daughters would rather have their loved ones back. You must realize that they won't let you leave with any of their loved ones though, but I can offer to come along with you as a hostage if you feel that you need that..." He says, holding up his dagger and dropping it to the ground. "...I am now unarmed and besides being a bit too talkative sometimes I offer no threat to you. This is the best offer you will have here tonight I'm afraid." He finishes taking a step forward with his arms peacefully outstretched

Persuasion/Deception: 28 + Bardic inspiration if needed: 2

[Stealth check for Riven:14]

Vazo'yn slowly steps behind Jack, pulling his horse along behind him. If the ambushers make a threatening move he would stop immediately. Otherwise he holds one hand out, palm open to show that it is empty, and the other out to show it holds only the reins of his horse.

"Be careful not to offer too much lest they take it for weakness and increase their demands thinking they have the upper hand," he warns in the others' minds.

Aloud he simply says, "Here, the first horse," to support Jack's negotiations.

The bandit allows Vazo'yn to approach. He stops Vazo'yn about 15ft from him then points with his knife to the bandore slung over Vazo'yn's back. "What's that?" and before waiting for a response, he adds, "Leave it there, on the ground, next to the horse." he orders.

The bandit also seems swayed by the offer of a free, unarmed hostage. He motions to Jack to come closer with the tip of his knife.

Riven uses the distractions of Jack and Vazo'yn to easily cross the distance to the bush and tree. He can see the bandits looming over the hostages like sentinels of death. Though he cannot see their expressions, Riven can sense that their eyes are without mercy.

Well, at least Lily will be pleased, the dark-haired man thinks to himself as he complies with the bandit's instruction and walks over with his arms stretched into the air. "Tell us how many horses you need and they will be brought to you, but I suggest you let the old ones go now that you have me, just to keep their sons and daughters calm and happy and you will be out of here with your newly acquired steeds in no time." He says calmly as he reaches the bandit leader.

Ylis gets closer to the hill but keeping out of sight. She is ready to dump a bad guy in the river. 

Or maybe a couple of bad guys.

Hurting old folks?? That's over the line.

Giles doesn't know exactly what is going on as the hill is blocking most of it, but he knows something is amiss. He will move closer to Ylis, using the hill to block him from what ever he can't see on the other side of the hill.

Vazo'yn pauses for a moment. The bandit demanding his bandore is exactly what he was hoping to avoid. He hides his frustration with a muted smile. He releases the reins of his horse and urges the beast forward slightly.

"It's a bandore. Do you play? You should try it out," he says as he slips the instrument's strap off his shoulder and begins to lower it carefully to the ground in front of him.

"If he plays it, be ready," he warns the others telepathically.

"Now please, let the hostages free. You have what you want."

Randa remains where she is not wanting to risk moving in case the bandit stabs his prisoner.

If she was out of sight she could risk creeping closer but her current location is too exposed.

The light is behind him now, blotted by brush, branches, and luck. Riven moves like a specter through the few shadows left, every breath held until it’s safe to take. The earth beneath his boots does not betray him. When he settles behind a tree roughly fifty feet from the huddled hostages, he is a phantom.

He can sense how close they are. All three. 

Then—

The voice comes, soft and precise, threading through the tether of minds.
Vazo’yn, steady even in his frustration.

“If he plays it, be ready.”

Riven’s reply is immediate. Cool. Controlled.

“I am in position. Fifty feet.”

A breath. A calculation. A plan etched into resolve.

“I’ll give it a moment. If he plays, I go for the hostages. If he doesn’t—on my mark—we move.”

He shifts.

Slips back into motion, breaking from his current cover with the same effortless grace that carried him here. Embraced once again by shadow and silence, he draws nearer to the hostages, just beyond the edge of easy reach, but close enough now to act with violence should the signal come.

In his hand now: the horn.
To be used to call forth his insurance, his contingency plan-Hollow and the other horses.

He listens for the sound of the bandore. Riven breathes in slowly, drawing the world into razor focus.

“This ends now,” he thinks, as his hand tenses around the horn.

He waits. One second. Two. Just long enough to see if the fool dares to pluck a string.

Vazo'yn is able to gather that he would like to play, but has elected to save that for after he escapes. The bandit grins at Jack and Vazo'yn with yellowed teeth. "Four more horses. Two for my friends and one for you, since you're coming with us." He says while glancing back at Randa. "And one for her. She got funny ideas in her head, so if she keeps thinkin funny thoughts, she will get to see what you look like with a second smile." He then looks at the bandore with hungry eyes and orders Randa. "You! Bring some more horses and pick that up!"

He pointedly ignores the demand to release the hostages for now, though the logistical wheels turn behind vicious eyes. As has been suggested by the Fellowship, bringing all the hostages would be impractical and difficult to manage. The Fellowship gets the sense that this is not his first hostage situation though and has elected to swap four cantankerous, resistant, old folk for two younger people who maybe value their lives enough to not give too much trouble. "We don't need your wrinkled prunes." He says as he looks down at the bandore again with longing. "But you two are coming with us for now. Might let you go when we get far enough away."

Randa nodded with a half smile and moved to fetch her horse and lead it across to them.

Jack motions for whoever is left with the rest of the horses to bring them so that the old ones can be released, hoping they were all working towards this.

Joy lays down her sword and leads Milton towards the bandits, ready to unleash justice on the men as soon as the elders are safe.

Having a reason to get closer finally, Giles will lead his horse toward the altercation area.

As the Fellowship brings the horses, the other confused adventurers watch, helpless to do more than offer silent rebukes toward the ne'er-do-wells holding their family. Seeing compliance enough to satisfy him, the lead bandit tilts his head toward the others to bring the other hostages out to the open. One is holding their belly in what appears to have been a light stabbing, their travel robe stained with a long run of blood, but they can walk. The lead bandit demands Randa to hand over her bow and upon complying, he tosses it into the bushes with a grunt about how he can’t shoot. She now carries the bandore that the bandit watches with envious eyes. The avarice practically makes them glow, or perhaps it is the illumination of a distant memory, of an alternate path not taken.

Each bandit maintains a vicious grip on their victims as they mount the horses. Hollow practically insists upon coming even without a rider, as the bandit leader is more interested in weighing down the horse with two hostages in case they try to flee him. It stands next to Vazo’yn, digging up dirt with its front leg in a restless need to do something.

Ylis, benefitting from being too short to have been seen over the slope of the small hill, uses this time to creep up the hillside and get eyes on all three bandits, all approximately 60ft - 70ft from where she crouches on the hill. The powerful current of the river quietly runs 90ft from the little harengon’s position.

Giles and Joy are both handing over their horses to the lesser bandits, while Riven watches with unblinking eyes from the dimly lit bushes. The unsuspecting bandits, sure in their control of the situation, sit victorious on the saddles of stolen horses. Fists tightly gripping the scalps of weary individuals, youth eroded by time much like the bank has been carved away by the rushing river not far off. Heartbeats thunder in your chests, waiting to act as one.

The lead bandit releases his hostage and holds out his hand. As Randa offers him the reins, he violently slaps her hand away with enough force to make her horse pace uncomfortably. “The thing! Give me the… the instrument.” he snarls, not remembering what Vazo’yn called it.

“How bout a song ta remember us by?” he asks, his dirty hands leaving smudges on the polished wood of the bandore as he adjusts his grip.

"Ohhhhhhh, there once-" The bandit leader sings, well off-key, and strikes the cords of the bandore. Upon doing this, his singing is clipped short and one eye wanders off to the side as blood bursts from his nose like a crimson tide. Immediately he tosses the bandore away. "Ah!" he exclaims. "The town baker just cooked up somethin nice!" he says, pointing accusingly at the party.

His companions are dumbfounded. They look at each other confusedly, still believing he is smugly mocking the victims, but no longer understanding how this is meant to be insulting. They fail to grasp that their leader has just suffered a rough, magical approximation of a stroke, leaving the language portion of his brain temporarily scrambled. At the same time, the leader looks to his companions with indignant rage, wondering why they are not following through on his clearly stated order to kill the hostages.

OOC: What do you all do?

Giles will move closer to the horse he just handed over, he will look at the bandit on top of it and say, very loudly "HER NAME IS COOKIE!" trying to perhaps add to the confusion of the moment.

Performance: 10

[Giles is a close combat sort of fellow, he is tyring to get close, figures others have range/magic covered]