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Detheriel
Having been pushed to one side by first Nivram, then Isokla, Detheriel took the hint and made way for more experienced hands. He retrieved his quiver from the trees, making sure to collect the spilled arrows and then walked back into the clearing.
He started walking over to where Isokla had moved to tend Nivram, but a glance from the healer that expressed her desire to be left alone gave him pause.
"We should wipe your lawlessness from this world....We shall return order and prepare the way for the Master...". The words carried clearly in the crisp forest air and despite (or perhaps because of) the gravity of the situation, Detheriel could not help but burst into laughter, slapping his thigh with a free hand, no doubt to the astonishment of those around him.
He was still chortling with mirth as he walked over to where Telryn stood, resting a hand briefly on his shoulder in appreciation at the quick thinking of his large friend.
"Return of the Master...bringing order?!" Detheriel repeated incredulously. "I've never heard such nonsense in all my days!"
Then, perhaps remembering the wounded behind him, he ceased laughing and looked at Telryn. "Shall we make him talk now, or should we wait for Isokla?" he enquired.
The bandit spat once more, this time in Detheriel's direction, the spittle landing on his tunic.
Wiping it off slowly with his hand, an unamused and suddenly icy cold Detheriel drew his blade once more and crouched down, pressing it lightly against the bandit's throat. He slowly drew the point across his neck, the metal tip appearing to bounce slightly as it skipped across the tiny crevices in his skin.
With a small but unreadable smile on his face, Detheriel leaned closer and whispered into the bandit's ear."Pray tell, where is your Master now?" he enquired.
Squatting as he was, Detheriel shifted his balance slightly, choosing to rest his other hand on the arrow shaft that still protruded from the Bandit's shoulder.
[ 06-01-2006, 08:35 PM: Message edited by: shamrock_uk ]
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