Passive Pillager !!link!! 🔔 🚀

But each night, he watched them through his spyglass. They didn't raid. They didn't burn. They foraged for wild onions, built no fires (too afraid of the smoke giving them away), and slept in turns while one kept a silent watch. The older woman, whom the others called “Marrow,” spent her evenings tending to the crossbowman’s festering arrow wound—an old injury, not from battle, but from a boar’s tusk.

On the fourth morning, Kaelen slipped closer. He found their camp in a collapsed windmill. The axe-bearer, a young man with hollow eyes, saw him first. He raised his axe, knuckles white. passive pillager

“And walk into my village as refugees, not raiders. I’ll vouch for you. But I’ll need Marrow’s word that she can heal our blacksmith’s daughter. She’s had a fever for a week, and our healer is old and blind.” But each night, he watched them through his spyglass

Marrow’s weathered face cracked into a small, tired smile. “I can heal her. I was a bonesetter’s apprentice before the warlord’s men took me.” They foraged for wild onions, built no fires