Stopping a few feet away, the eccentric looking half elf looked the prisoner up and down and chuckled.

"So, you wish to parlay? From what I know that only worked with pirates and privateers, but I'll see to what you want. From the looks of it you bested my four men who I sent out after that pretty dark haired girl. Also from your looks, your either a very skilled man who can slay many, or you had help. Either way, I rather not fight in either circumstance. So I'll entertain you for now as today was boring, please put that useless thing down, he's done no good for me today and he's gotten more than he has deserved just by living through your little fight."

He turned to move away, and quickly turned around again smiling at Basyl, "Oh, please follow me, I'd like to take these talks into my private quarters, it is chilly out here and I was about to retire." He turned again to wait for Basyl's response, as behind him the four figures started to move back into their tents.
The appearance of the half-elf was not what Basyl expected from the haphazard group of bandits... something didn't seem to add up; then again the war, and its end, had brought together all kinds of unlikely companions - his own group included. His cold-hearted chuckle had set Basyl on edge,mixed with the complete disregard for the captive it did nothing to set his mind at ease. The itching in his legs grew as the man continued; he could feel all eyes on him.

The exchange had failed before it could be brought up; it was up to Basyl to buy time now. The man began to turn away, then turned back quickly and invited him deeper in, but a glimmer of motion caught Basyl's eye. He had a bad feeling about this, and his eyes traced a line from the other bandits to their leader, and his rapier.

"Aye. Let us leave this chill and relax some; this night has been filled with disruption" He made a face of disdain, and cast his prisoner off to the side. He spoke with strength and volume in his voice wanting his host to believe him completely foolhardy. "As per the terms of parley, I'd ask yer men stop pointing those at me, I be here to talk. Lead the way, and let us discuss our business."

Play up ignorance, and they'll get sloppy; just gotta show me hand in stages. He moved forward after the leader with swagger in his step, but caution in his mind. 'Parley' may be useless here, in fact he was counting on the men trying to take advantage of his 'cluelessness'.... he was almost certain things would turn violent now. The scene rang dangerously close to past experiences, the warning bells ringing in his mind. If only he was better at reading people...

((OoC: Let's play the walk further in game. Basyl is seeing the plan crumble with his ship on the rocks. He plans to try to hold to the peaceful terms of parley until he is threatened. However, some paranoia at being the only one exposed has him ready to move with full speed towards the trap if conflict ensues before getting to the 'private quarters'(readied action). If Fleeing: He will be drawing his weapon as he moves(free action), and leaping/diving over the trip-line. Hope you guys like playing it by ear...))

Render sat in his tree, the weather had changed now. The sun was setting and a chill was setting into the very marrow of his bones. The tree was deeply uncomfortable and Render shifted regularly making as little noise as possible. He found himself staring down at the new woman, Leanderia that was her name, he envied her hiding spot. To him it looked like a bed of silken cushions, despite the fact it was cold hard earth, it seemed to him much more comfortable than the long hard branch he was perched on.

Renders eyes had rarely left Basyl, he was beginning to like the haughty sailor. He saw bravery, confidence and a rare glint of himself in the man, it was lost long ago, but Render saw ambition and a caring for others. Something Render hadn't felt since a young boy. It made his stomach lurch, he hated even the thought of a good deed. He would not let this disjointed group of misfits ruin his personal... happiness.

As Render watched, Basyl walked further into the camp and he winced, his left eye closing into a wink, the wrinkles of his face creasing his skin. This could only end badly! Why did he not put himself forward? He had closed more business deals than these lot had sipped a drink of mead. Yet his one rule of life had stopped him from butting in 'Render first, others second.' So far it had worked, after all he wasn't in the camp, surrounded by men who followed his same rules. A part of him yearned to help Basyl, but that was quickly overcome. After all his main goal in life was to stay alive, he was up a tree and safe enough for now...

Basyl had entered the camp without a problem, if you don't count the now unconscious bandit who had survived the earlier battle, and the man that greeted Basyl didn't count it as a problem. The words of their conversation drifted through the trees as he stayed hidden behind the tree, quiet and not looking. From just the voices he couldn't tell much except the confidence of the man who had greeted Basyl, he guessed the real leader of the bandits, he guessed that would make sense. Why would the leader of a outcast group chase after a prisoner when he had people to do it for him. Valandril asked himself rhetorically.

"Oh, please follow me, I'd like to take these talks into my private quarters, it is chilly out here and I was about to retire."
The unknown man had suggested they adjourn to his tent to talk rather then in the open. Valandril silently cursed as Basyl agreed and made his mind up to return to his original position. The plan was next to useless now, but hopefully in playing it by ear they would succeed should things all go to pot, Valandril turned and quickly, but as quietly as he could, made his way back to his original hiding place. On the way he stooped low and picked up a fist sized rock... it could prove useful should a distraction be needed.