The countryside was good for a party of their size: it was thickly forested on the sides, and an individual approach would be all but invisible to the high vantage points provided by the towers. It was thick enough that a large number of troops would never be able to penetrate it, but a small band would, and he imagined that might have been on of the reasons his group was chosen by the count for this mission. There were several streams that were fueled by the runoff from the waterfall by the fort, which did cause some gaps in the canopy but made up for it by providing some watery racket that would hide the sound of someone--or several someones-- making their way through the thicket. The soil was a bit a of a problem-- it made footprints rather easily, which wasn't at all safe. Still, their was enough loose rock mixed among the dirt and earth that it didn't make a particularly identifiable footprints (with his feet, they might mistake them for bear tracks).
But his eye lay sharp into the winding coils of slash pine and scrub, and his hand was set against the handle of his battle hammer. He had yet to see any deer, bear, or boar despite this being such a ripe area for wildlife. Animals didn't leave fertile areas like this untouched without a reason. He suspected he knew why.
A half hour passed as he continued to make his way towards the towering spires of the fort. He had left a nice big gash in one of the trees so the others would find his trail, but he had to admit they seemed to be taking their time. It was almost as if they were walking the whole way. The horizon was beginning to glow orange as the sun began to draw down, and the temperature rapidly plummeted with it. A cricket chirped, and then a frog. And then he stopped dead in his tracks as he heard what he had been expecting to hear.
A sneeze, and an all too human groan not less than twenty meters ahead.
The bandits had sentries in the forests. Taloc carefully drew his handaxe. His hammer would make too much noise if there were other sentries around-- he didn't want to blow his groups cover. 'Malacath-- forgive me for this dishonorable kill...' The bandit, clad in simple leather and leaning on his spear as if his ankles weren't working, wasn't able to turn up in time to see the axe as it decended over his neck, and died not knowing what had hit him. Frowning, Taloc gathered the head and the body and dragged it off to the side. As he was about to go back on his way, Taloc saw something sticking out of his pocket: a piece of paper. Raising an eyebrow, Taloc took the paper, and in the rapidly dimming light, began to read it.