Five roughed-up older men rounded the corner. Their leader, I assumed, walked up with his hands above his head as if to show that he was unarmed. He appeared to be in his late forties, with a bushy gray beard and hair, and I knew better than to believe that they didn't have any weapons at all.
Sure, the five of them didn't have any weapons displayed as I did, but I knew one or more had some dart weapon. Worst of all, the darts must have had some kind of poison on its tip. I felt worse and worse as it took hold of my body.
"Deeply sorry, but I think we're under a big misunderstanding," the man said, slowly stepping toward us. "My name is Raphael. I'm the leader of the little party you see here. We shot you thinking that you were a...well, an unsavvy trader of goods. But I see now that you were just trying to get her home like we were. I'm ashamed. Please forgive us."