The caravan stood no chance. There were a few guards and they were drunk. I watched as the group of bandits waylaid them, took their cargo and left them bound on the side of the road. They were still bound when the bandits left. They were still bound when I arrived. Time was short but I wished to ensure them a full oblivion. Mind, body and soul. I lay them out all in a row and searched their remaining belongings. Any trifles of their gods I profaned. Basely. I then set a fire at the feet of each of them. I offered them a quick death if they gave their soul to Pyrtechon. The first one that did was the last to die and he watched all of his comrades enjoy my skills. By the end he begged for death, and I obliged, piking him on the road. I made an emblem of Grand on the side of a wagon, and satisfied that only the Raging One knew my tribute to him, I set off in the direction the bandits left.
It was not difficult to find them, drunk as they were, comfortable as they felt. I took a fire of alchemy and set my blade alight and descended on them as a mighty storm. It took no more than ten blade strokes to silence their cries and I savored every light that went out in their eyes.
Every chance meeting becomes an opportunity.