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[ He's starting to wonder if Bennet's mistaken when the voices become audible. Being questioned, Stratos shifts his crouch enough to snatch a look at the men. One glimpse tells him they're not wearing Stormcloak blue. He answers softly. ]

Not rebels. Bandits, possibly - or merely adventurers. [ There's a fine distinction sometimes, but he's not willing to set the knight on a bunch of honest-ish Nords out on a legitimate job.

That in mind he moves to take another look, listening closely. Bandits here have their own peculiar style of fur and cheap leather, based more on bravado than actual protective value. Wise adventurers tend to upgrade once they have any coin. ]

Hn. [The terse grunt is all the answer Bennet is willing to give, as his present concern is less for the identity of the newcomers and more for their fighting prowess. For all their lack of uniforms, none of them appears to be a novice.]

[They're a grizzled trio, clad in what appears to be a mixture of leathers and secondhand armour. One of them is missing a hand, and another bears gruesome scars across his face, clearly the work of some large animal. Only one carries a shield, a wooden thing; the other two bears arms only. An axe and two maces between them, Bennet counts. They look capable of holding their own in a fight, but he'd trust none of them with his back.]

... so then I says, I says, 'pass me another girl, orc, this one's split!! [This comes from the largest of them, the bearded one with the facial scars, to which his companions laugh heartily and Bennet curls his lip in faint disgust.]

[ The trouble with this wretched province, he thinks, is that half the citizens look like bandits. This time it's close to call, but Stratos notes their gear and grizzled look and judges these to be no youthful warriors trying their hands as sellswords, nor legitimate professionals.

Stendarr knows he's not prejudiced by any response to their sense of humour. Nor any personal grudge he might bear against outlaws. Not at all.

He settles back, expression cool. ] Bandits.

[Was that the response Bennet was hoping for? Certainly not. If he smiles, and it may not be distinctly a nice smile, why, that's just because it confirms what he already suspected is all. And if he's quick to draw his sword, why, it's simply to be quicker on the draw than the cutthroats on the other side of this rock, that's all.]

Stay here. [He fixes the mage with a glare, just a moment's pause to warn him not to run, and then he's scurrying up the rock, holding his sword in one hand and pulling himself up where needed. He doesn't even look back to be sure that Stratos is doing as he has been bid, instead focusing entirely on the prey before him.]

[And the prey knows a predator is afoot. The moment he drew his sword they stopped, and halfway up the rocks one of them calls out:] 'ey, anybody there? You'd best just come right out, you don't want to-- AH!

[That cry quickly becomes an agonized shriek, almost certainly came because of Bennet's having leapt down from the rock and cutting him open like a kidney pie. The other two bandits aren't dumb enough to waste words; they just draw their steel and charge, yelling.]

[Seeing them coming, Bennet grins. Finally.]

[ Rather than dwell on the death that follows his word, Stratos takes the chance to properly examine his bonds. If his estimation of Bennet is right, this skirmish may not keep the knight's attention long enough to free himself, but at the very least he's figuring out whether he can flex enough to burn the ropes.

Then, he shifts again, trying to get a look at how his captor really handles himself. And keep a lookout for any more bandits drawn by those battle cries. If he can't work free he really doesn't want Bennet to fall... though he could still handle one bandit, if they stumble on him. ]

[Bennet didn't just leave it to his word to be sure Stratos would think running a poor idea; he's bound the man's hands expertly, being sure to tighten the ropes just enough so that his captive would have very little in the way of wiggle room without causing him permanent damage. This was not his first time taking a mage prisoner, after all, even if it is the first time he does not intend to put said mage to the sword.]

[He is adeptly handling both the remaining bandits at once now, scarcely even paying any mind to the answering battle cries that have sounded to his left, and he doesn't even just look confident, he looks downright happy, almost seeming to draw energy from each clash of steel against steel. The bandits with their one-handed weapons should have the advantage, but the difference in strength and skill is too great for them to close. The bandit with the short sword grows frantic with his thrusts, clearly not enthused about losing his other hand, but he soon loses more when he oversteps one too many times and Bennet cleaves not just hand but his entire arm clean off... or rather, bloody off, since the wound is anything but clean.]

[And any further observation will have to wait, for now one of the bandits answering the cries of their brothers rounds back around the rock, clearly hoping to hide from Bennet, only to break into a wide, gap-toothed grin at what he finds.] Aaaah, whadda we have here, eh? A little lost legionnaire? You picked a bad time to get lost, friend.

[Anticipating an easy kill while his friends struggle to bring down the big knight, the bandit draws a dagger and advances on Stratos.]

[ Times like this wearing plain old steel pays off. Stratos shuffles his crouch as if cowering, waits a beat, then lunges for his surprised assailant. He's trusting to surprise and his armour to deflect the knife. He can't hope for a disarm with his hands bound, but it's easy enough to grasp at the man- that's enough.

There's no light-show this time, no sparks or sound. Just the soft swish of power as he grasps the man's mind with his own will and soothes it. From the bandit's perspective, nothing noticeably changes - there's just the sure sense that actually, everything's fine. Sure, it sounds like there's a fight going on nearby - but he's found his buddy right here, hasn't he? There's nothing to worry about!

Stratos gives it a second - until the man babbles about ditching this lousy mess - before stepping away and giving him a smile. In his best Bruma accent: ] Sure. Hey, pal, lend me a hand with that knife of yours...

[ Yes, he's mimicking his little brother. No-one must ever know. ]

[Even from his currently-very-preoccupied position, Bennet can feel it when Stratos pulls that power into himself, though he can't spare the time for anything more than a scowl before he's back to meeting steel with steel, having traded two opponents for five (effectively four, with one literally disarmed now.]

[As for Stratos's bandit, he has neither Bennet's senses nor his acuity, and the moment the mage grasps his neck and skin touches skin, that's it, he's lost. The spell sweeps over his mind without any resistance at all, his leer shifting seamlessly into at first glassy-eyed senselesness and then a determined frown, stepping in front of the man he'd just moments ago been intent on disemboweling.]

C'mon, old buddy, we gotta get outta here, like, yesterday! That guy they're fighting is a berserker, or a monster, or something, lookit what he just did to Eron!

[Stratos's words take a moment for him to process, either because of the spell or just because this fellow's not the brightest star in the night sky, and then he's nodding quickly, eagerly even, leaning in with his knife to cut Stratos loose.]

Right, sure, whatever, let's just move it!

[As if to punctuate the bandit's terror, there's a wet thump from the other side of the rock, as though a body were very violently slammed into it just now. Which is exactly what happened, of course. Three bandits down on Bennet's end, two more for him to go.]

Edited 2015-03-31 05:11 (UTC)

[ Stratos's smile sharpens even as that thump from behind pointedly reminds him of his peril. It occurs to him that there aren't nearly as many panicked voices in the air now. His momentary friend isn't wrong.

Which means there isn't much time. He eyes the bandit. ]

You go. [ He presses a hand almost to the man's chest and looses a lightning bolt. It's not the most honourable way, to kill a man under his influence, but it is at least kinder than fire.

No, he's not running. That would make the situation too simple, forcing Bennet to hunt him down among the rocks and hills and feel perfectly justified in defending himself. Once he's dealt with the bandit he'll don a stoneflesh spell as fast as he can, and wait. Bennet's like to find the mage exactly where he was left. ]

[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?

It seemed short-sighted. [ He leans back against the boulder, practically conversational despite the green-blue glimmer overlaying his skin. He hasn't raised his hood, and the bandit's weapons lie discarded with their owner. He wanted protection, not escalation.

After all, he did suspect Bennet would notice his work. Stratos in turn notes his restrained reaction. He takes in the knight's condition with outward dispassion: berserker would be about the right word, if Bennet only fought with fury instead of joy. Certainly the mage has seen too much to be confident about dueling him. He just might not have a choice.

He'd feel much better if he were sure illusions would hold him. As it is the risk he's about to take sets his nerves on edge, the lingering charge in the air a promise of lightning. ]

And I thought this a good moment to repair our position.

Did you. [He asks, taking a step forward, and then another, dark eyes flickering quickly from that bandit lying facedown in the dirt at Stratos's feet to the mage himself. Even if this is to escalate, to come to blows, he will not act rashly. Duelling a mage is quite a different affair from duelling a band of ragtags outlaws.]

[He stops a few feet away from Stratos, just outside of his blade's distance, and sizes the man up. The enchantment seems to be maintaining, for the moment, but Bennet knows he can't keep it up forever, whatever it is. A spell of protection, most like. Even without ever having seen it before, the way it has altered the mage's skin makes its intended purpose easy enough to guess.]

[What now? If attacking had been the man's aim, he would have done so already. He holds his blade at the ready, not poised as a hunter over prey, but ready just the same. Better than most men, he knows how quickly one must move to beat a mage to the draw.]

And how do you intend to do that? [Perhaps it's worse that he asks the question so calmly, as cool and dispassionate as he had been when Stratos was safely bound, despite having fought with such exultation just moments before.]

[ It is worse. It's worse in particular that Stratos can't get a ready sense of how he's likely to turn. But he thinks his protection will last quite long enough to work that out.

Well, then. ]

By offering you my help. [ Succint. Frank. Hopefully enough to check the tension. ] From a somewhat better position, where my word may carry some value.

Why would you help me? [Skeptical. Not hostile. Not challenging -- for the moment, at least. Just skeptical, in the sort of way that indicates he would probably be folding his arms right now were he not wielding a sword at the ready.]

I am not one of your people. I am not an ally to your nation. And if your claims of rank be true, then you have prior allegiances. For what reason would you turn away from your present duties to offer me your aid?

[A bandit might not think to ask such a thing, but for him the answer the mage has for him is significant. Loyalty and duty mean much to Bennet, and if this mage is truly sworn to a unit of his own, then he wants a very good reason as to why said mage would offer to turn away from his unit to help what, to him, amounts to an outlaw, no better than these vagabonds he just slew.]

Because you aren't insane. [ He says it thoughtfully, as if a little surprised by his own verdict. A slight smile, then. ] Because I've learned that there may be an outside power tossing dangerous foreign knights into this plane - which ought to be impossible. If so, my standing orders are to investigate - and stop the maniac responsible.

[ The smile disappears, something beneath his matter-of-fact tone intensifying sharply. ] Because I need to know what you are and how you came into my Empire, Sir Bennet du Paris. And not least because if I do not help you, you may very well end up capturing some other poor fool to do it. Someone less capable of protecting themselves than I.

[ An admission there, that if they come to blows it's very likely he won't survive it. Possibly it tips his hand regarding his other concerns, but the fact that investigating dangerous magical phenomena is his actual duty ought to be explanation enough. ]

[He does not say anything right away, he just holds his sword at the ready and listens. Calmly, allowing his gaze to give away nothing. What he hears surprises him.]

[Finally, once Stratos has finished, he responds, doing the mage the courtesy of returning his own matter-of-fact straightforwardness in kind.] Very well then, Tribune Stratos Caelus. If it is truly your intent to offer me aid, then I will accept it. But you must remember that I still have my own oaths to uphold, as do you. Should we reach the valley and the portal be open, I do intend to go through it, and I do intend to bring you with me, willingly or otherwise. My people believe our war is almost over, but if a higher power is responsible for this, then it is not over and may indeed be just beginning.

[He stares a moment longer, then hefts his sword to wipe it clean, dropping at last his guard. If Stratos intends to attack him, he'll never have a better chance. And yes, it is a test of a sort.]

[ You know, Bennet, when he finally decides you're not crazy you don't have to immediately undermine him by re-announcing your intent to abduct him. He still doesn't understand why you're bent on that, it all sounds like gibberish to him.

No, he's still not accepting these terms.

Although he has noticed the acknowledgment of his rank and he's not taking the chance to attack because these are negotiations here. Even if they're not going well. ]

Then you have a higher cause to attend to than interfering with my duties. [ His turn to be sceptical, and a little stern. ] Once this mission is complete, I cannot allow you to keep me from them.

[You couldn't possibly understand, Stratos, coming as you do from a world where magic and its use are apparently commonplace enough for mages to be given rank and enlistment in a legitimate national army. He isn't even going to try to explain it to you.]

[But he knows that if he comes back from the wastes alone, with nothing and no one to show for his journey, that the bishops and cardinals, nay, even his fellow knights, will laugh off his story as madness. Falsehoods. The delusions of a man too long in the desert, seeing mages and bandits where there was only empty sand.

It matters little to him that his would-be proof personally disapproves. He has discharged his duty to the man by informing him of his intentions. Anything past that is a boon.]

You may attempt to stop me when the time comes for such. [Indifferently, as though he were asked whether or not rain would come.] Until then, though, you would be better served putting your energy and powers towards our common goals. We shall worry about the burning bridge when the time comes to cross it.

[ Stratos is no better pleased, but he looks distant for a minute. There's no sense of magic this time, only brooding as he weighs duty and risk, his suspicions and observations... and yes, curiosity and determination against fear and anger.

Finally he straightens and bows slightly, the shimmer of light vanishing from his skin as he does. ]

Then I think we are agreed.

[ For now. He's gained some ground at least, repositioning himself from prisoner to reluctant ally. ]

[ His attention turns to the fallen bandit, briefly. ] I didn't have the luxury of questioning this one, but their camp should be easy to find.

[Bennet is... not relieved, precisely, because if Stratos had insisted upon resisting he would not have turned away from fighting him, aye, even killing him if he had to, but he does feel a certain tension leave his shoulders and a sense that this is, perhaps, the road better traveled. Having any ally, even a mage, is better than having no one at all.]

[Inclining his own head forward in acknowledgment, he relaxes from his ready stance at last and comes for, withdrawing from his tunic a cloth to wipe his sword clean with.]

Agreed we are then.

[And no, he makes no move to re-secure Stratos. The mage will have his chance to prove himself an ally. But he will be ready, and if there is even the first whiff of betrayal, he will not hesitate to strike this man down and carry him the rest of the way to the valley trussed and hooded.]

[He considers the bandit's body as he cleans his blade, nudging it over with his boot.] This group was ill-equipped and iller-trained. Should we expect similar constitution from those at the camp?

[ Stratos has some clear ideas about what will happen if Bennet gets the impression he's trying... well, anything. It's one reason he's resolved to use as little of his magic as possible. Up until the very instant this arrangement expires. ]

Potentially. But it's wiser to assume some of them had the wits not to run out blindly against unknown opposition. And their chief invariably claims the best equipment, if they have one.

[ He scans the area thoughtfully. The dead bandit holds no further interest for him. He's much like the others, save the blackened hole burned through the leather on his chest, the branching red marks on his skin which testify to the cause of death. Also, not lying in multiple bloody pieces. Subtle details. ]

Unless they've found a tomb or cave to hide in, there can't be many more in their camp.

[Bennet nods. The advice is sound, and truth be told, something he should have considered. Not that he would have just charged into the bandit camp with sword raised high in even the best case scenario, mind you. He is a man of passion, yes, but not foolishly so. Not at all.]

Aye, fools walk with their lips into fights which they know not, as it is written. We shall not fall prey to their mistakes.

[He considers the body on the ground for a moment, eyes lingering on their still-smoking hole. There's no doubt in him at all as to its source. He notes it without comment, boots the bandit's dead body back onto his face, and leaves it be.]

We will need to proceed more carefully going forward, I think. You know this area better than I, Stratos Caelus, so lead on.

[He'd had no problem with taking the vanguard before, when this man was his prisoner, but now that he is no longer such expects him to carry his weight. If there had been a question of his being able to defend himself, clearly it has been settled now.]

[ He looks faintly amused at the notion that he knows the region, but he does have the relative advantage. With a short nod he heads in the direction from which the reinforcements came, slowing once they're past the battlefield. Given the intelligence of the rest of the crew, the path is unlikely to be elaborately trapped, but he's still watching where they walk.

Especially since he diverts fairly quickly, skirting the camp a little way. He motions them to a halt and peers between the rocks at the wooden fortifications. ]

It's not much. A fence, two lookout posts. [ And possibly archers. He glances at Bennet. ] We're close enough for me to see their positions. I assume you have no objection?

[ One may infer from the question what type of sight he means. ]

[ That flicker of amusement earns him a suspicious glance, as Bennet isn't quite sure what he said that was so amusing. But then they're moving again and his suspicion is left behind with the dead bandits. Though he senses no further danger for the moment, he keeps his sword drawn, eyeing potential hiding places in the manner of a man who has hunted bandits before.

He's not the only one it would seem, for the tribune catches the scent of their camp quickly enough. And while it's not much, it's still more fortification than he was expecting, given the poor fighting ability of the men he slew. The rocks the mage has brought them to provide excellent cover, but getting anything better than a glimpse of what they're up against is proving difficult.

So when Stratos proposes using his magic to get a better view Bennet does not object, though his lips do press together into a thin line. ] ... We do what we must. See what you can see and be quick.

[ It's as close as he can get to accepting the magical aid as necessary under the circumstances. ]

[OOC: Yes, I'm seriously tagging a 3+ year old scene. No, don't feel any need to tag back if this is (as it most likely is) past its sell-by date. I was just cleaning up my inbox, found this buried notif and reread this (actually really good!) scene. And when I saw you're still active with this character, I figured what the hell.]

[He’s glad Bennet is willing to tolerate the proposition, however grudgingly. Peculiar as the man’s aversion to magic is, Stratos wouldn’t give a damn about it save for the continued risk that it will get him killed, whether by provoking the knight or hindering the tribune in keeping them both alive. If Bennet will at least permit him to use his skills to practical ends then this uneasy alliance will be much more tenable.

There’s a soft blue glow when he cups his hand and passes it over his face, and when he lowers it the same light lingers in his eyes. Stratos stares toward the camp, unhindered by the rocks in his way, head turning as he makes sure to take in the full extent. ]

I make them thirteen in all. Three on the rocks by the camp entrance and one on each lookout tower – safe to assume they’re archers. Five milling about inside the camp, two more farther back on a higher level… and one stationed up there.

[ He’s pointing up high, past the camp.] It may be possible to find a path up to that post from the rear, or to infiltrate from the side without being seen. This isn’t the most effectively fortified camp I’ve seen.

[For legionnaires it would be downright disgraceful; for bandits it’s merely amateurish. And probably lethal. He’s seen how sure-footed Bennet is on the rocks, though he refrains from making any direct suggestions to how they should proceed, lest the knight be prejudiced by their source.]

[OOC: Hey, it was a cool surprise to see this drop into my inbox! I’d actually love to pick this up again, it was a fun scene and I’ve gotten much more comfortable playing Stratos since then.]