[Bennet, meanwhile, is finishing off the last bandits quickly, no longer willing to waste time on them. All in all, they've been disappointing foes, not even equal to the Moors from his own world. It seems to him they are used to preying on unarmed or inexperienced travelers, and have little skill when it comes to fighting trained opponents.]
Tch. You're no more than common scavengers, aren't you?
[He directs this at the last two bandits to fire them up. Chasing them down if they ran would be quite the chore.]
[And speaking of chores...]
[A cry from behind the rock where he left Stratos, all too quickly silenced, encourages him to redouble his efforts, and in a couple more bloody seconds it is finished. One of the two bandits lies in a puddle of his own blood, head hanging limply from a half-severed neck, while the other is swiftly collapsing, wasting his last moments of life trying to gather his spilled entrails back into himself. Irrationally, Bennet has the thought that he the bandit should have the decency to at least wash them first, it is so unsanitary otherwise.]
[Then he shakes it off and comes back around to see what has become of his prisoner.]
[He is not entirely surprised to find Stratos both free and waiting for him, his exposed flesh now bearing the cast and pallor of granite. He lifts his eyebrows, seemingly oblivious to the sight he must look right now, armour splattered with blood and sword dripping red rivulets into the dirt.]
You were attacked. [His demeanor, at least, is back to its usual laconic manner.] Why did you not try to run?
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Tch. You're no more than common scavengers, aren't you?
[He directs this at the last two bandits to fire them up. Chasing them down if they ran would be quite the chore.]
[And speaking of chores...]
[A cry from behind the rock where he left Stratos, all too quickly silenced, encourages him to redouble his efforts, and in a couple more bloody seconds it is finished. One of the two bandits lies in a puddle of his own blood, head hanging limply from a half-severed neck, while the other is swiftly collapsing, wasting his last moments of life trying to gather his spilled entrails back into himself. Irrationally, Bennet has the thought that he the bandit should have the decency to at least wash them first, it is so unsanitary otherwise.]
[Then he shakes it off and comes back around to see what has become of his prisoner.]
[He is not entirely surprised to find Stratos both free and waiting for him, his exposed flesh now bearing the cast and pallor of granite. He lifts his eyebrows, seemingly oblivious to the sight he must look right now, armour splattered with blood and sword dripping red rivulets into the dirt.]
You were attacked. [His demeanor, at least, is back to its usual laconic manner.] Why did you not try to run?