Themerlinhawk
With a heavy sigh Garrett pushed the visor of his helmet up and stared at the carnage left behind. “Damn.” Who would have thought the green horns had this much skill; let alone the stomach to do some of the stuff they had just done. Looking down at the bandit he had trapped against the ground Sir Garrett grimaced. “Oh for goodness sake.” Grabbing the young kid by the front of his jerkin Garrett hauled the kid up in front of him. The Bandit smelled of piss and sweat. No wonder really given what had happened to him. Grimacing again Garrett growled at him “How many are in the camp.”
It didn’t take long for the kid to spill his guts to Garrett given that his destroyed knees meant he wouldn’t be escaping regardless. After he had extracted all of the information he wanted from the Bandit; Garrett slung him over the saddle of Ash. Turning from the now unconscious bandit Sir Garret started towards the Captain maul in hand. As Sult’s wail split the air Sir Garrett half grimace half chuckled. The grimace was largely out of embarrassment for her but Garrett doubted she’d really cared about embarrassing herself; hence the chuckle.
“I think you’ll live, Oh Vocal One.” Approaching the Captain Garrett shouldered his war maul before he nodded in respect to Fanilly. "I couldn't get much out of the bandit that I capture. I think a combination of fear and dehydration has made him less than helpful." Eyeing Tyaethe's sword with a look of distaste he continued with his report "Beyond that I doubt the kid has much useful information I suspect it never crossed his mind to count the number of bandits living in the camp and no doubt it varies based on raiding parties." Wrinkling his nose again Garrett slid his war maul into a loop on the heavy harness around his waist and waited patiently, if not uncomfortably due to the undead knight's presence, for the Captain's orders.
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