The Madbrawler tiptoed their way on the snow cliff. Scar raised his fist. His men stopped, and he crouched before narrowing his eyes at the tent.
"They are sleeping. This is our perfect chance." Scar used hand signals to tell his men an order to circle the camp from a distance. He glanced to the side where a group of marksmen and magicians nodded at him.
"Remember do not let him summon his undead or transform into a Phantom Claw." Scar stared at one particular tent, and took a deep breath. "Activate the spell."
The magicians raised their staff. "Silent environment. Deaf senses! Calm mind! Comfort body! Sleepy night!"
Scar smiled. With these spells cast on the camp, even if he shouted to the top of his lungs, they wouldn't hear or notice it.
"Attack!" The Madbrawler leaped off the cliff. Their feet landed on the ground and they charged at the camp. Scar ran to that one tent where the boy was. He wanted to be the one who killed him.