Eskra too stays hiding, ready to call forth Carageorn when the bandits least expect it.
Roots-Sink-Deep stands proudly before the main entrance into the fortified trading post. Dressed in shining dragons scaled armor, the small leshy presents such a fearsome and elegant picture that the approaching bandits begin to falter and stumble in humility.
The Root leshy Strides forward. He raises empty arms high into the air. The sky suddenly darkens. The clouds converging directly over head with Mal intent.
Lightning flashes! Peals of thunder boom a voice so deafening that the bandits sinks roughly to their knees! Whimpering and wetting themselves from the pure unadulterated fury of Nature represented in this Mist majestic leshy named....
The small leshy tosses his pillow at Nidintu!
Horse s!%%, Nidintu! Almost got to the best part!
Roots does his daily preparations before taking his meek place on the wall....
An hour and a half before dawn, Nidintu rises from his bedroll, fetches his equipment, and goes to get prepared for the coming battle. As he leaves the guest house, he glances at the soft beds, then shakes his head. How can anyone sleep on something so soft? It must feel as though it will swallow them up at any moment! Give me nice, firm ground any day. He climbs up to one of the watch towers, then spends some time sharpening his new axe while his aureate eyes sweep the darkened hinterlands for signs of the bandits' approach. Eventually, his pointed ears hear the whistle of the tea-kettle, and he makes his way down to the trading post's yard, nodding in thanks to Svetlana as he accepts the human's meal.
Spotting Roots-Sink-Deep still asleep in the guest house, an idea for a trick steals over him, and he rouses the leshy from his slumber. "Roots? Roots-Sink-Deep! Wake up, my friend. You slept all the way through the battle, plant child. The bandits are dead or scattered. Svetlana has made dinner, if you would like it."
Nidintu is no skilled liar, however, and after a moment, he proves unable to contain his mirth at the trick. The tiefling laughs briefly but uproariously before continuing. "A joke, merely a joke, friend Roots! It is well before dawn, and we still await the bandits' arrival. Svetlana has ash cakes for you, if you feel hungry."
After finishing his meal, Nidintu finds a hiding place near the gate, readying his weapons for the appearance of the bandits.
Despite his bulk, Nidintu is surprisingly stealthy. He finds a place among some empty crates under the walkway's eastern terminus, his ashy gray skin blending into the shadows cast by the old fort's structure.
The rising sun coming over the walls of the former fort is shining straight into the bandits' eyes, making it difficult for them to distinguish details. They approach with swaggering confidence, riding their horses through the open gates and stopping in the open area. Their leader calls out, annoyance in his voice.
"Oleg, you dog! Sleeping in? You know what day is today! Get out here on the double, or I'll string you up by your guts!"
The rest begin to dismount, looking around. One seems to notice the horses in the stable and frowns in thought before raising an arm and pointing. "Happs! Look 'ere!"
Xavin peeks over trying to assess what his first target should be....
Roots-Sink-Deep watches in anticipation the approach of the unwary bandits. The Root leshy begins to fidget in his splendid dragon-hide armor. The Storm druid's head majestically covered by the blue-green scaled dragon head.
Raising his arms above, he begins to call upon the full fury of Nature to be unleashed....
Roots blinks his blue-eyed back open at the sound of voices in the yard below his position on the front wall. The small (not armored) leshy groans at the wait.....
Nidintu waits as the bandits pass by, looking for Halrod's signal to close the gates and keep the brigands from escaping. Glancing up at the sound of Roots's snores, he sharply elbows one of the support pillars in an attempt to jolt the leshy awake - no sense in the child giving away the fae pack's position. Probably dreaming of imaginary bears or some such. Can't say I blame him - I've always hated the 'waiting' part of ambushes. He tightens his grip on the helve of his new axe, ready to begin the ambush but also wanting Halrod to give the miscreants a chance to surrender.
Blinking his blue eyes rapidly, the Storm Druid get to his feet. Stretching as he walks over to Halrod, Roots calmly whispers in the elven archers ear.
There's a storm coming for these bandits that will make Erastil grin.
The small leshy winks at the Fighte, pointing meaningfully at said gathered bandits....
As the bandits enter the trading post's yard, Nidintu steps out of the shadows behind them, calling out to the five thieves as he does so. "Oleg and Svetlana are under the protection of the Wildwood Band. Drop your weapons and keep your lives. Stand against us and die."
To demonstrate, he brings the helve of his axe up in a powerful blow to the nearest bandit's face, then slams the flat of the axe's blade down on the next enemy's head.
As he strikes at the bandits, he motions for his allies in the watch towers. "Archers! May Erastil speed your arrows!" The towering warrior turns back to the brigands, a smirk on his face. "You are outnumbered and surrounded on all sides by both archers and mages, my friends, and the only way out is through me. Were I you, I would drop my weapons."
Nidintu's first blow catches the bandit under his chin and the man sails backwards to crash insensate against the wall of the guest house. The other one staggers from the force of the blow, but remains on his feet, blood streaming down one side of his face.
The leader whirls around, reaching for his bow and yelling "Ambush! To arms! Attack!"
Eskra murmurs a few words in Sylvan before running their hand along one of Carageorn's blades. The faint patterns of thorny vines and strange flowers on his shortsword flare with green, shimmering light.
They nod and smile to him, "Kill the bastards. Prove your honor."
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Carageorn charges forward, roaring at the bandits with a voice like thunder, "Ruin and misery! Light and song! I am the thorn of the flowering vine, weep at my coming and rejoice at my valor!"
I still think it is a mistake to take prisoners. Xavin calls out as he focuses on the red bandit furthest from him.
Xavin's arrows find their mark unerringly, one of them lodging in a thigh and the other neatly pinning the bandit's foot to the ground. The man screams, then promptly collapses from shock and pain.
Roots raies his arms while calling the ground to erupt(kinda) n front of the exit!
Scatterscree
The small leshy then Raises his Shield.
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At the critical moment when he might have tried to resolve this peacefully, Halrod blurred and shifted, as if time were flowing differently for him. When he came to himself, the melee had started.
It's getting worse, he though. Am I coming unstuck in time?
Ironically, he had no more time to think and merely reacted, firing arrows at the nearest thug.
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"A witch! They have a witch!" the bandit closest to the gate shouts, staring at the ground that the leshy's spell has churned up as Halrod's arrows whizz past him, missing his leg by a hair.
"Fight back, what are you waiting for? Cowards and curs!" the leader yells, nocking an arrow to his bow.
"Look at them freaks! This one's half-devil, I see. No civilized place would have him, so he came here to be a pain in the arse, eh?" This stream of insults is directed at Nidintu-Bel, followed swiftly by two arrows, none of which finds its target.
The one who had shouted earlier is either luckier or has more skill, as he shanks the tiefling warrior twice, with quick movements that find the gaps in his armour.
Having already been acquainted with Nidintu's axe, the third remaining bandit is much more hesitant to engage, and his strikes are week and ineffectual.
Seeing Nditu flanked and very hurt, Xavin focuses on the more hurt of the ones going after him and stops being non lethal.
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Roots begins cursing and stomping around up on the walls!
Go to the wall, Roots. You'll be safer on the walls, Roots. Too bad your spell Range ID only 30', Roots! Hahahaha!
The frustrated storm Druid begins finding his way back down to where the action is!
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Go to the wall, Roots. You'll be safer on the walls, Roots. Too bad your spell Range ID only 30', Roots! Hahahaha!
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Nidintu scowls at the bandit leader's words. "Half-demon, and I assure you that I will show you the meaning of pain if you do not drop your weapons. Now." As the archer's arrows sink into the cart beside him, he grins, revealing a mouth like a small armory. "Fine shooting, deadeye. In my day, bandits had to hit the broad side of a barn before they were given bows - they let any imbecile fight, these days!" As the other bandit's dagger sinks into the gaps in his armor, he turns on the offender, furious. "I warn you for the last time, drop your weapon or I will give you some of what I gave your friend there." The tiefling strides towards the bandit leader, slashing at his foe with his massive axe. "And you, braggart, let us see how well you fire that little bow when I break your arm!"
The flat of Nidintu-Bel's greataxe smashes into the side of the leader's head with a crunch that does not bode well for the bandit's future period of consciousness. The man falls sideways like a felled tree, landing heavily into the dirt. One of Xavin's arrows grazes the bandit who just stabbed Nidintu-Bel, and that - together with the sight of Carageorn heading towards them - is too much.
"A-a-aah! Mercy! Mercy!" The two bandits still standing throw down their weapons, falling to their knees with their hands clasped before them in supplication.
Xavin nods with satisfaction, My old skills have not deserted me.
He makes his way down to the courtyard. It may be I am the best at tying these vagrants up as well. If no one else feels confidence then I will tie them up.
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Carageorn sheathes his swords and nods, "Very well. Mercy shall be given, on but one condition. A year and a day from now, if ye be free and of thy own command, leave a bottle of whiskey and a fine of loaf of bread on thy threshold. Until that cometh to pass, thy honor is forfeit by the terms of surrender, but thou shalt be my charges and squires. Will'st thou accept?"
Nidintu turns back to the two remaining bandits as their leader falls. "This is truly your last chance. Drop..." His eyes take in the two unarmed bandits on their knees in surrender, and he lowers his axe. "Oh, so now you listen? Unbelievable!" He throws his hands up in exasperation.
At Carageorn's words, however, the massive warrior nods. "If you will swear an oath to abandon banditry and find a new life, there are many places for those skilled with blade and bow. You could do quite well for yourselves as hunters - even Deadeye here." He glances down at the unconscious bandit leader. "I will gladly teach you what I know of archery, if it will help you - I'm sure that even a 'half-devil freak' could show this one something, and I can't see how he could get much worse. We'll tell your sleeping friends here the same when they awake. Mind you, you would have to swear an oath, and in these lands, your word is your life, so don't be too hasty to speak. If you don't like the offer, I could take you to the prisons in Restov - I'll tell them you're pickpockets so they don't hang you."
He looks up, raising his eyebrows. "They even have bandits up in Brevoy, you know. Robbers who steal from peasants, merchants, and even nobles sometimes, and nobody is allowed to kill them because they are in service to the king. They are called 'tax-men.' A peddler from Zmeyka told me about them." His tone of voice suggests that this is a strange and novel concept to him.
Eskra wanders out from behind the building. They sigh at Carageorn's dramatic pronouncement.
Unsure for a moment whether to play along with the fey warrior's dramatic pronouncement, Eskra decides to see where it'll go.
They smirk at the surrendered bandits, "You'd do well to listen to him. He's a temperamental fella, but he keeps his word. Beides, the Stolen Lands are a dangerous place, as I'm sure you know. Helps to have a seven foot tall fey warrior looking after you, even if he is bossing you around from time to time."
The two awake bandits look between Carageorn, Nidintu-Bel and Eskra with a mix of confusion and terror as Xavin binds their hands behind their backs. Oleg and Svetlana have come out of the house and watch the proceedings, Oleg with a frown that indicates he had other, bloodier ends for the bandits in mind.
One of them ventures, "Wh-who are you people?" while the other nods fervently, "Yes, I- I'll swear!" The latter is the man with the blue scarf who was at the very rear of the group and got startled by Roots-Sink-Deep's spell. "I-I'll go south, to the River Kingdoms. I hear they need guards there. I'll be a guard!"
The other looks up at Carageorn, calculatingly. "I don't see why I should exchange a fey overlord for another, to tell you the truth. I'd rather be a hunter, like this other horned fellow suggests. One thing I don't get though... why are you not hanging us?" He adds hurriedly, "Not that I'd want that, of course, but I'm just wondering. Are you Sarenites? You don't look like Sarenites."
A fey overlord for another? Xavin quirks an eyebrow. And who pray tell is your current fey overlord? And I am not a Sarenite, but some of my fellows certainly seem to agree with the Sun Goddess on matters of redemption.
Running, vine-like arms swinging, little vine-like legs churning, Roots-Sink-Deep appears ready to fry some dirty, stinking....
"I don't see why I should exchange a fey overlord for another, to tell you the truth. I'd rather be a hunter, like this other horned fellow suggests. One thing I don't get though... why are you not hanging us? Not that I'd want that, of course, but I'm just wondering. Are you Sarenites? You don't look like Sarenites."
Nidintu fixes the bandit with an appraising gaze for a moment. "You are the one who stabbed me, young man? The one who noticed our horses in the stable?" After a moment, his face splits in a grin. "It takes a cool head and a keen eye to notice such things - horses where there should be none, gaps in a suit of armor. You will go far in life, I think. I do no obeisance to the Dawnflower - the foul-mouthed plant child and I are both followers of Erastil. Still, until recently, I would have stood alongside you as a bandit."
The tiefling's grin widens. "I fought for the Tanith Outriders since before your grandfather was old enough to spit! I know from personal experience that even robbers can make something of themselves, and more importantly, I know that your word is your life here in the River Kingdoms. Still, my friend Xavin does have a point. If we are to set you free, you would need to answer some questions for us - who your lord is, where he makes his camp, that sort of thing. You serve the Stag Lord, do you not?"
The bandit laughs. "What a twist of fate! A former bandit come to make righteous men out of us!" He watches Nidintu-Bel carefully at the last question. "I did serve the Stag Lord, true - although if I am to swear that oath I suppose I no longer do, eh? I call him 'fey' because he's... well, strange."
He settles on a more comfortable position on the ground, shifting his legs so that he sits rather than kneels. "He's not a normal person, like you and m- like me, I suppose. I saw him crush a prisoner's hand in his fist, once. No one has ever seen him without that creepy stag helmet on - some say he ain't got no face under it, others say that the helm is his face." A small shiver passes over the man. "He's encamped in an old ruined fort, a ways south from here, by a lake." He glances at Oleg, who scowls back. "Before you worry about the Stag Lord though, you need to worry about Kressle. She's one of his captains and camps a couple days' ride south and west of here, by the Thorn River. When we don't return as planned, she'll come looking."
Svetlana clears her throat, looking a little pale. "This Kressle, does she wield two hatchets?" The bandit nods. "Aye, ma'am, that's her, and she's something fierce with them." The colour drained further from her face, Svetlana turns to Nidintu. "That's her. That's the one who threatened to cut off Oleg's hand, and who took my wedding ring. She's very dangerous."
How many places do you visit on your collection visits? Xavin wants to know. We know of Oleg and Bokken. Mayhaps we just wait for her to come? I don't know if we can pull this trick twice. We caught you four completely unaware after all, Kressie will not be, on the one I don't think any place is as well defended in these parts as this outpost. On the other we will be placing these good people in further danger. What is your name human? Nidintu is right, you are a perceptive one.
"I did serve the Stag Lord, true - although if I am to swear that oath I suppose I no longer do, eh? I call him 'fey' because he's... well, strange."
Nidintu listens as the bandit tells the fae pack what he knows, nodding as he finishes. At the perceptive bandit's clever turn of phrase, he thinks for a moment. "You do have a quick mind, my friend, though I assure you that trickery was not my intent. I suppose that phrasing would be more fitting, wouldn't it?"
"He's not a normal person, like you and m- like me, I suppose. I saw him crush a prisoner's hand in his fist, once. No one has ever seen him without that creepy stag helmet on - some say he ain't got no face under it, others say that the helm is his face."
The warrior shrugs as the bandit hastily amends his statement - he's certainly not going to claim that a group with a time-skipping archer, a tangled mass of sentient roots, and a seven-foot man with antelope horns qualifies as "normal people." "Fancy clothes never made anyone more deadly. Roots here doesn't wear clothes at all, and we're not calling him 'Nature's Wrath' or something like that." He looks down at Roots, pointing an admonishing finger at the little leshy. "Before you ask, I am not calling you that!"
However, as Xavin suggests waiting for another assault, the massive tiefling frowns and shakes his head. "I disagree, Xavin. We have only a limited time in which we can act, which is why we must act now, rather than waiting. If we do nothing, the bandits will know that we are here and that we bested the second-rate warriors they sent..." He glances down at the two surrendered bandits. "Look, if I'm not honest with you two, you can't improve!" The warrior's gaze returns to Xavin. "As I was saying, they'll know where we are and that we could best the party they sent. Even in the old days, the group leaders would generally get reinforcements from the nearby camps, then attack in force where they know their foe to be. If the Stag Lord has truly unified the old bands under his rule, we could be facing every brigand in the Greenbelt. However, these robbers would still have needed some time to get back to the camp at Thorn River - that gives us a little time that we can use to find this camp and best this Kressle. If we do that, the situation changes - all the other brigands will know is that the Thorn River band has been silenced. There is nothing to link Oleg and Svetlana to our activities, and the smart camp leaders will go into hiding - they certainly won't do something so bold as menacing the trading post again until we hopefully defeat their lord."
Nidintu turns to Oleg and Svetlana where they stand in the yard. "Oleg, if these bandits accept redemption, I'd also like an oath from you, swearing you won't trouble them so long as they fulfill their end - if they're willing to turn over a new leaf, so should you."
"How many places do you visit on your collection visits? Xavin wants to know. We know of Oleg and Bokken. [...] What is your name human? Nidintu is right, you are a perceptive one."
"Just these two, sir elf. There's some hunters and trappers in these parts as well, but they move around too much. And they all bring their stuff here to sell, anyway. They say there's a village somewhere deep in the forest, but the Stag Lord hasn't sent anyone there yet." The soon-to-be-former bandit ventures a smile as he is asked his name. "Morn, sir."
Roots seems to be trying to pantomime a Bandit lying his pants off and getting fried by lightning.....
"Morn," says Halrod. "Tell us more about this Stag Lord. What manner of person is he? By your words he is no true fey, but fey...like? Tell us what you know of him, of his strangeness, his strength of men and most especially, where he may be found."
And how many fighting forces are in the Stag Lord's ford, how many does Kressie surround herself with... are they similar to you Morn, or more powerful?
Oleg takes a few steps forward, stopping to stand over the bound bandit leader, who is starting to stir awake. The scowl on his face is something fierce. "What, so they say a few words and get to walk free? What justice is that? And will you stay here to defend us from those who don't say the words? Or say them and don't mean them?" He shakes his head.
Svetlana takes a half step towards him, her expression pleading. With a soft clinking of armour, Valerie comes to her side. "It would be my honour to defend you and yours, when I am not needed elsewhere."
Avoiding to look at either Oleg or Svetlana, Morn continues his report, floundering a bit. "Well, it's... he's..." He chews on his lower lip as he struggles to find the words. "He just has his air about him, like he has one foot in somewhere else, a-another world. He's fiendishly strong, and when he tells you to do something you do it. Everyone I talked to is scared of him." He swallows, shivers, then turns to the more practical questions.
"He has about a dozen with him in the fort, including his three lieutenants. If you free my hands I can draw you a map of where it is. Kressle has half a dozen at her camp, just rank-and-file."
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"What, so they say a few words and get to walk free? What justice is that? And will you stay here to defend us from those who don't say the words? Or say them and don't mean them?"
Nidintu laughs uproariously, only stopping once he realizes that Oleg and Svetlana are not laughing with him. "You're serious? Thrice-tenth, you're serious! Haven't you ever heard of the River Freedoms?"
He shakes his head. "You'll have to learn it at some point if you're to make your lives here - this is a part of the River Kingdoms, after all! The River Freedoms are a code of laws, passed down through the ages, that guarantee the rights of those who live here - things like the elimination of slavery, the freedom to say what you will, and the like. They're more than just a code of laws for many in these lands, they're a way of life. The Second Freedom states that oathbreakers must die - usually in gruesome ways. The Shrike Uplanders used to take those who broke their word and dismember them with horses." He glances at the unconscious bandits, who are beginning to stir. "I do not entrust your safety to their honor - honor's for dithering fools who have forgotten what duty means. Instead, I entrust your safety to their word. In these lands, there is a difference. An oath is not just 'a few words' - to go free, they must forever forsake what may be the only life they have ever known, with the knowledge that their closest friends would find them and kill them should they go back on their oath."
Nidintu shrugs. "Some aspects of it may seem harsh, but it has held together these lands since time immemorial. People from all over Avistan seek freedom in this land, you know - when I was a bandit, I once met a group of escaped slaves from Qadira, seeking a better life in the land between the rivers. I also met a slave-taker who wanted to bring them back to their homeland..." He grins and draws a finger across his throat. "...though our period of acquaintance was rather brief before I cut off his head."
"He just has his air about him, like he has one foot in somewhere else, a-another world. He's fiendishly strong, and when he tells you to do something you do it. Everyone I talked to is scared of him. He has about a dozen with him in the fort, including his three lieutenants. If you free my hands I can draw you a map of where it is. Kressle has half a dozen at her camp, just rank-and-file."
Nidintu listens as the young bandit continues his tale, shrugging once Morn is done. "Most of banditry's just appearances, kid. Bandits who look fearsome aren't questioned as often and have to fight less. Back when I was a lieutenant in the Tanith Outriders, Boss Tanith had me use this tooth polish we got off a Zelshabbaran alchemist - said it made my smile look like a mouthful of knives." His face splits in a wide smile - partly to demonstrate, partly due to the humorous memories he recalls. "I remember one merchant from Port Ice - three chins, a carriage covered in gems, the like. When he saw that smile, he... let's just say I hope he sold pants. I didn't blunt my sword once that night." He stares off into the distance for a moment, lost in an earlier time, before recovering and refocusing on Morn and his allies. "Anyway, it's probably the same thing for this Stag Lord. If he has lieutenants and warriors at his fort, he can't be all-powerful and all-knowing, can he? The fact is, leaders need minions and lieutenants and the like, just as much as they need him. Folks like the Stag Lord keep power by making them forget he needs them."
The massive fighter addresses the three now-conscious bandits, crossing his arms as he smirks at them. "On your feet, you three. I need to talk with you. We've been hashing it out with Morn here-" He indicates the now-former bandit with a jerk of his head. "-and we have a proposition for you. We could take you to prison in Restov - we'll tell them you're pickpockets so they don't hang you. However, if you swear an oath that you will abandon your life of banditry, you can find a new life as a hunter or trapper or whatever you wish. There are many places for one skilled with blade and bow-" His grin widens as his yellow eyes focus on the bandit leader. "-who knows? Perhaps Deadeye here may someday be able to hit a tree from half a dozen paces!" He turns to Oleg. "And Oleg, as I said, I'd like an oath from you as well, ensuring you won't trouble these folks so long as they uphold their end. Thrice-tenth, if these bandits accept, they'll be forsaking their old brigandry and forever changing their lives - the least you can do is let bygones be bygones!"
Oleg seems about to argue, particularly bristling at 'bygones', but then two things happen. Svetlana takes his arm and whispers something to him, something that causes him to look at her incredulously, then with a mix of powerful expressions that pass too quickly to be identified before he puts his arms around her and buries his face in the crook of her neck.
Second, Orlund steps to stand next to the still bound Happs, looking down at him sternly. "I'll stay here to guard those who swear the oath. You are quick to forgive them, Nidintu, but they have stolen from and caused harm to these good people and they must work off their debt, if nothing else." Oleg nods at that, slightly mollified.
"If they do that, if they spend three months working for us and helping with this place, then I will forgive them their debt and I will swear the oath. They shall see no trouble from me if they don't cause any themselves."
Roots is now seen eating popcorn during Nidintu's speech.
Nidintu listens as Oleg and Orlund speak up, his head tilted to one side as he considers. After a moment, he nods. "Yes, that seems reasonable. You five, will you swear this oath? Remember, it'll be your necks if you break it! You'll work for Oleg for three months, then you can go where you wish - north to Brevoy, west to the village in the Old Forest, or even staying here to keep working for Oleg."
The two bandits who had surrendered and the one that had been the first to fall in the attack swear the oath, but their leader Happs refuses to do so, glaring murderously at everyone. He is joined by the fifth bandit.
Xavin sighs. Nditiu, your compassion is an example to us all, but, who is going to take these two louts to Restov? Maybe some of our companions can make that trek and rejoin us later? For us I think we need to focus on this Kressle. Maybe gather some berries on the way for Bokken.
Roots seems to be creating an enactment of a hanging by using sticks, twigs and stones on the ground.
Eskra gives Carageorn a look before turning to the party, "You're really going to spare those bastards, shuffle them off the Restov so some magistrate can promptly let them go when the right coin changes hands? I'm with Roots, I say we show them some Stolen Lands justice."
The fey warrior draws one of his swords, running a lanky finger along it. He says nothing, but his unnervingly long eye contact with Happs and the other unrepentant bandit provides ample subtext.
Roots rises. The small leshy walks over to the trio of potentially pardoned persons.
Please draw us out as precise a map with landmarks, possible hazards and positioning of people's. Thank you.
The Storm Druid turns blue lightning filled eyes at the two continued bandits.
Erastil will use your remains to fertilize these lands. He thanks you for your service.
Roots prepares to head out to hunt.....
"You're really going to spare those bastards, shuffle them off the Restov so some magistrate can promptly let them go when the right coin changes hands?"
Nidintu raises his eyebrows. "Is that what magistrates do? Thrice-tenth, seems like a pretty stupid idea, if you ask me! Who in their right mind would pay someone to let their enemies go?" He sighs. "Still, if you think we should kill these people..."
The towering warrior turns back to the two defiant bandits, hefting his axe. "Sorry, friends, but I don't think we can take you to someone who gets paid to set you free. Still, I figure the least I can give you is a quick death." He raises his axe, but after a moment, he lowers it again. The tall elf glances back at his allies, his axe still held at chest height. "...Look, my friends, I will kill these men if that is your wish, but is this truly the kind of kingdom we seek to build? These lands are called 'stolen' for a reason - Brevoy may have lawyers and papers that claim it's theirs, but the locals seem to say otherwise, and who's to say that Lady Jamandi's claim on this place is any better than that of this Stag Lord? We're about to kill these two because they followed the orders of the wrong leader, then stayed loyal to him until the end. If it turns out that our benefactors from Restov are in the wrong, will some other band of mercenaries from Pitax be justified in splitting our skulls in the same way?"
The massive tiefling shakes his head. "As I said, I'll kill them if that is what you all wish, but I think we should send them back to Restov - perhaps Orlund or Valerie could take them, as Xavin suggests."