In the snowy forest, now covered in the blood of the scattered corpses of the fallen guards and adventurers, Oliver, having quickly ended them all, moved skillfully trough the corpses. He knelt beside the lifeless bodies, his eyes scanning the lower halves of the bodies for any signs of valuable belongings.
With a soft touch, Oliver extracted the gold pouches from the belts of the corpses, his face wearing a sly smile. The satisfying jingle of the stolen gold seemed to please him, and he muttered to himself, "Now, this is a good haul."
Leona, a few steps away, observed Oliver's actions with a hint of impatience. She called out to him, her voice cutting through the quiet aftermath of the skirmish. "Oliver, we should be on our way."
As Leona's voice reached him, Oliver pocketed the acquired gold pouches, his grin lingering. "Right, right," he replied, rising to his feet. With a final glance at the spoils of his quick looting, he joined Leona.
