Tirian had heard about tragic deformations caused by wild magic before, but had never seen it in person, and to have a group of bandits affected by it was a whole new thing. If they were allowed to escape they would terrorize the land and cause fear to spread throughout all of the villages in the area. Moreover it would be known that he was the one who had released these horrors onto the land, for bandits were not known to keep secrets of where their loot, or in this case their deformation and enhancement, came from. He would have to do better in the future. But for now he had to focus on defeating the rouges or else he would fail his main focus as a ranger, namely to protect the meek and incapable, to help those in need and let no harm come to the innocent. It was time to get to work.

He moved towards the main group of bandits but before he could reach them a small group of them broke off and began to circle around the rocks over the top of the cave towards the rest of his team. He looked over to see Kiana making sure Westley was okay, Aeryn chanting spells possibly in an attempt to keep Lycus from teleporting more but he could not be sure, and Nimblescrum keeping a close eye on he bandit lord most likely to discern if he would be the next target of an unblockable attack. Tirian realized they would most likely be caught off guard if he didn’t do something to warm them. He had to decide quickly weather to attempt to slay the bandit lord before he could utilize his newfound abilities even though it could cost his friends dearly, or help them and maybe lose an opportunity to end the fight before it really began.

Nimblescrum took the moment to lift a smooth, grey stone from the ground where he had fallen and throw it at one of the lumbering, twisted bandits nearest him. It struck the creature in the temple, causing it to turn and bellow with rage.

And with that, the nimble and half-height thief ran away.

Nimblescrum looked to the heavens, and then shrugged.

“Eh. fuggit,” he mumbled.

Nimblescrum snapped out of it and returned to the fray. Something had welled up within him… a new and righteous indignation.

He unfurled his leather roll-up and produced a short sword. With a growl surprising for a being of his frame, the thief sprang forward toward the first bandit– the one he had struck with a stone only moments before.

The bandit turned in time for ‘Scrum’s blade to sever his femoral artery, at the exposed point of his inner thigh, spied keenly through the bandit’s shredded garments.

The other bandits were likewise vulnerable, an unintended effect of the twisted magic having broken clasps and links holding armor and basic covering firm. They seemed to become aware of this at once, looking down at their tattered gear and then up again at the raging halfling.

When the thief’s blade hamstrung the second bandit, the rest of the heroes took notice. The unexpected rally had come from the most unlikely hero in the group, but it mattered not. Like a rising tide, the band of heroes lifted their weapons and rushed the bandits, their voices piercing the air. The battle lasted less than five minutes, and when the cries dropped and the breath was heaved, the bandits lay in bloody piles about the woods.

In front of the group stood the bandit leader Lycus still, his visage grim and determination steely.

“Come on now!” shouted the thief to the group. “We’re nearly there! Don’t give up now!”

Tirian was surprised by the outburst of heroism by Nimble, moreover he was ashamed of letting a thief take the first action towards riding the land of these bandits.
He had frozen. At the critical moment he had let his team down, and left a small town pickpocket to bring up the slack. It would NEVER happen again. HE, would be the one to end Lycus.
He stepped out in front of the leader of the outlaws.
“Come on now!” He shouted at the deformed man, “Let’s finish this! Just you and me!”
Lycus laughed, “What? HAH! That’s ritch. A single ranger thinks he can defeat me? I could squash you before I had these powers!”
And with that Lycus quickly cut another portal and before Tirian could even bring his knives from his belt he was knocked to the ground by a powerful blow.
He lay there for a moment, the wind knocked from his lungs, then quickly rolled to the side to avoid being impaled by Lycus’s broadsword. He got to one knee then drew his daggers just in time to ward off a blow from the bandit lord. He got to his feet and took a step back.
“You see?” taunted his opponent, “you can’t hope to beat me! I will just keep coming after you until you lie dead at my feet!”
Tirian readied himself for another bout.
“Face me without your cheap tricks Lycus! Then we’ll see who is lying where!”
With that Tirian rushed at Lycus, blades held high. The bandit sidestepped and deflected Tirians blow, the ranger spun around and tried to slash at the legs, hoping to catch Lycus off guard. But the ruffian was to quick, he brought up his foot, kicking the dagger out of Tirians right hand.
Tirian took a quick step back and threw the blade from his forearm sheath, but that too Lycus deflected without descernable effort.
“No cheap tricks huh?” scoffed Lycus, “What would you expect from an outlaw?”
He tore another rift with his sword and appeared behind Tirian. Before the ranger could react Lycus grabbed him by his collar and hurled him towards the rest of the group.
Tirian landed heavily at the feet of the other heroes, Westly quickly bent down to help him up.
“You can’t beat him alone! What were you thinking?” asked the young spellcaster.
Lycus gaffawed. “You people are so pitiful! Why do you even fight?”

Lycus seemed to grow in power in the final moments of the struggle, thrown into some kind of arrogant rage. The band of heroes struggled to hold him back, but a win looked unlikely. In one dark moment, Lycus hauled back and laughed.

“I could do this all day!” He mocked. “Who will I butcher first…”

The bandit lord spied the cowering Westly and advanced on him, laughing. In a flurry of motions, Westly desperately tried to stop Lycus in any way possible, throwing every spell he could remember at the towering figure.

In one final motion, the boy mage was able to halt Lycus in a raised death-blow, but it looked as if he wouldn’t be able to hold him for long. The color had drained from Westly’s face and his hand began to waver when a sound like a toy drum being thumped echoed through the woods.

Lycus’ eyes glazed over and the bandit lord dropped to the ground, unconscious. Behind him, Nimblescrum lowered a rubber mallet and grinned. Westly collapsed in a heap, his own magical abilities permanently drained.

Nimblescrum shook his head. “He will never be able to cast spells again,” he said.

The thief reached down and lifted the chainmail cap from Lycus’ head and placed it carefully in his leather roll-up.

“My job, I believe… is done here,” he said, patting the bag. “I think I’ve collected enough bits and bobs to please my employer back in the city. Look for high-quality replicas being manufactured and sold soon where you purchase your fashionable items! Not everyone has to be a hero to dress like one.” Nimblescrum headed in the direction of the village. “Questware. Designer gear at affordable prices. Don’t forget the name now.”

And with that, he was gone.