The group was hidden in the trees, watching the enemy as their men laughed and joked around the fires, drinking ale and some of them sleeping in their tents. They had laughed because of how easy it was for them to take the town, how the people had run from their horses and steel and arrows. What they didn’t pay any attention to was the relatively small number of people who were in the town, and how confused the people in the town were at the sight of the familiar sword and gryphon coat of arms worn by the men terrorizing them. The men didn’t worry about it, as they had been told by an informant that the town was a “soldier’ town, filled with mostly the men they had been fighting for a good month now. Now, the men that they had been fighting were watching them from the trees, wearing dark leather to help them blend in with the trees and the night around them. After the men had all gone to sleep, leaving the camp quiet as death, the men that had hid in the woods, silently watching, as still as the trees themselves, crept into the camp, silent, not a single rustling of a leaf, and ducked into the tents, and silently killed the men, one by one, a swift slice of the throat, while gagging the men. Many of the men had not even woken at the feel of the dirty cloth at their mouths, due to the large amount of ale they had drunk that night. When they got to the last tent, instead of killing the man, they had carefully left detailed battle plans, all aimed at them attacking their allies. Before the men left, silent as ghosts, they had placed a mug of ale, and laced it with a strange dark powder.