The plateau loomed in the background. The sun struggled to peek out from behind the grey rock, but cast only a feeble light. The men posed for a photograph prior to ascending the lonely cliff face.
Ruffians would not be the most accurate word to describe them. Certainly they were poor and ragged, but they lacked the stomach for crime. Rather, they were simply poor men with no better prospects than a laborious, dangerous climb up an uncaring rock face.
After the photograph they looked up with trepidation. Each man felt as though some grey specter looked back at them.