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Detheriel
In his temporarily cowed state it looked safe to leave the bandit alone with Telryn, so Detheriel ran quickly back through the woods to the campsite to retrieve the rope from his pack.
Returning swiftly he passed the rope to Telryn, almost asking whether he needed assistance. He bit the question back however, reminding himself that the large man was probably capable of tying up three bandits at once without breaking into a sweat.
He now turned himself to the grisly task of looting the dead. He reached the first body and paused, hesitating to touch the horribly incinerated flesh of the bandit. His face a mask of revulsion, he rolled the bandit over onto his back with the toe of his boot.
The purse of the first one appeared to have been on his belt - the furious heat was such that the cheap copper appeared to have been melted; sculpted by the dreadful flames that consumed the carrier. His garments had mostly been burnt completely away, thankfully saving him from having to search inside pockets.
Reaching down, he prised the dagger from a nearly skeletal hand and threw both it and the sword into a pile beside the fire. His companion was a little less badly burnt and his equipment quickly joined the pile also.
As he moved over towards the final fallen bandit, his eye was caught by the flash of sunlight on a blade. Bending down, he saw that the sword this one carried was unlike the others - the blade, whilst much used, still displayed an ornate engraving running down the length of it.
Gripping the shaft, he lifted the sword from the dirt, taking a firmer grasp when he found it heavier than expected. He took an experimental swing with it, the weight almost pulling him off balance.
Hefting it once more, he decided to take it with him. There would be time for him to learn how to use it on the road ahead and it would seem prudent to have another weapon, especially seeing as this group attracted trouble quite naturally!
He reached down and retrieved the scabbard, attaching it to his belt and then proceded to investigate the corpse further. As the sword suggested, this one was clearly the leader and obviously not the type to do his own fighting for himself. Detheriel pulled a note from the body and broke the wax seal but could not decipher the cryptic contents inside.
Placing the rest of the possessions in the pile, Detheriel returned to Zakaria's body in order to undertake the task he had been delaying. Wincing in sympathy at the burns visible on exposed skin, he quickly went about his gruesome task.
The throwing knives and coin joined the pile, although the pendant and rings gave him pause. In the end, he left the rings on Zakaria's burnt fingers, but decided to take the medallion on the offchance it could be delivered to an associate.
One final item remained - Zakaria's blade lay at his side. Cautiously reaching out a hand to seize it, Detheriel recoiled at a sudden flash of pain, whipping his hand back as a whiff of burnt flesh passed his nostrils. Frowning, he drew his own dagger and cut into Zakaria's robe and wrapped the cut material around the handle. He then carefully lifted the sword and carried it over to Isokla.
"It is done" he announced brusquely. I've piled the posessions by the fire, with the exception of the mage's blade. I'll leave that for you to deal with" he said, dropping it to the grass beside her.
He then produced the note he had found. "This was on the body of one of them, although it makes no sense to me. What do you think?"
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