Ok then. Now back to our regularly scheduled story:
Meanwhile, back at the camp-turned-holding cell… (or nearby anyway)
El Marko the infamous, world-reknown and extremely notorious rouge sat watch near the strange collection of friends in the dryad forest. His woodsman’s skills and stealth had served him well thus far this night as he had already paid a visit to the dryad queen’s treasure room and liberated several choice items, mostly magical, all quite powerful. His most recent employer had only requested one item in particular, a small club grown from a dryad’s tree and quite valuable to the right people. El Marko thought it wise to also “find” a few things for himself as well though considering the great personal risk to his own person on this mission. This was not the first time he had done this sort of thing. In fact, the various non-detection charms and the cloak of stealth he wore not only kept him from being discovered by the dryads this deep in their wood, but also served as momentos of other jobs long since concluded.
Lean and well muscled from many years of scullduggery and other mischief, El Marko sat in silence and darkness as he regarded the goings on in the small camp of rebels. Though he had not pieced together the entire story as yet, he was sure that he could somehow turn the events around him to his advantage. His features indistinct beneath the black cloak and hood he wore, he blended in well with the dark forest night. Rechecking his various knives and daggers, he repositioned the folding crossbow and shortsword on his belt and settled in for a night of vigilance. Had there been anyone to witness this, his uncharacteristic grace of movement would have marked him as non-human, perhaps even elvish. Perhaps he would be able to glean some more information about this group in the morning when they awoke.