Running Into Bandits

The air in Westmont was calm, the quiet of the night punctuated only by the distant sounds of hammers and saws from ongoing construction that continued even into the night.

Damien and Arielle sat in the dimly lit kitchen of the Mercenary Guild building, sharing a moment of peace.

"And then, this particular one gropes the lady from behind making her moan instead of shout..." Arielle was recounting old tales of bandit raids from her childhood, weaving humor and caution into the stories.

Damien leaned back in his chair, half-listening as his eyes flickered toward the window. He had spent enough time in dangerous places to recognize when something didn't feel right.

"You're not listening, are you?" Arielle asked, catching his distracted expression.

"Not entirely," Damien admitted, his tone light. "Something feels... off."

Before Arielle could respond, a loud knock echoed through the building.

Knock! Knock!!