"Now gentlemen, I think we can all just put our very sharp looking swords down and we can just go on about our day." The lowlife bandits did not take too kindly to Jaskier's calls for peace as they slowly crept forward, making their tight circle around you, him and Geralt even smaller. "Besides, it isn't very fair is it... there must be fifteen of you guys and fighting wise, there's only one of us."

"I can still fight." With a little difficult you hoisted your blade from its sheath and rested it against your bandaged, cast supported arm. "I'm not completely useless."

"Can you all just shut up." The apparent ringleader of the ruffians perched from a small crest above, his dark oak moustache wriggled as he spoke and his gleaming, polished leather boots sat carefully on dry dirt. "Just throw them your money and we'll make your death swift, put up a fight and well gut you two and take the Witcher's head as a trophy piece." Your cold silence brought no pleasure to the ringleader who after a short, exasperated sigh casually ordered his band of merry men to gut you like fish.

You brought your sword up to parry the first heart-filled blow but before your steel clashed with his the ring of attackers flew back, and Geralt's fingertips sang with a humble purple glow.

Most of the men lay on the ground, clutching at their head whilst the rest fled, it was only the head of the crew who hopped down from his rocky outcrop and drew his weapon. Still trying to comprehend what had happened, you hadn't noticed him wrapping his arm around Jaskier's throat and taking him as a hostage.

"Listen here you little pricks, give me your coin and your weapons and you get your shit bard back."

"Oi." Jaskier seemed far too offended at the wrong thing. "I'll have you know, my bard work is fantastic."

"Jaskier." You hissed, knowing full well how much trouble his loose tongue had caused in the past.

"Fine." Geralt grumbled, dropping his swords to the ground, and scattering his loose coin on top of them.

"Finally." With his arm still tightly hugging Jaskier and his small Kris pressed against his back, he shuffled forward. "Right." He scooped up the coin and kicked the swords far away from the Witcher. "Your turn now." He pointed the blade at you, you looked over at Geralt but his infamous emotionless aura came as little help.

"Just don't hurt him." You followed in suit, tossing your blade to the dirt as well as a small leather sack, just too big to comfortably slide into a pocket. Before the container left your hand, you made sure to show the powdered grey contents to Geralt.

"Aren't I such a lucky boy." His grip of Jaskier did not loosen as he bent down, his scummy, unkempt fingers wrapped around the sack.

"Jaskier." You called out as Geralt slowly raised his hand. "Run." With an aura of great panic Jaskier rammed his heel onto the bandit's toe and with the tiny gap created, rolled out of the way. Geralt pushed his fingers forward, a small flicker of flame shot from his fingers and into the sack, which detonated from his hand and hurtled him into the overpass which he had emerged from.

~*~

Written by Aaron.

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