"No, we're not bandits—at least not really," the bandit leader relented after a brief internal struggle, "Lads, we're surrendering here, so do what he says - Now!"

There were a few who already had even before he spoke. The others remained undecided until he did; the leader's words brooked no argument out of them. Any thought of holding out left alongside their fallen weaponry in the tall grass. Not a single man or woman at the encampment retained the will to fight against Quintin. They had all seen the same man endure the assault and come out of it unscathed.

Quintin nodded his head affirming the weapons that littered the ground. "Ok, that's a good start," he looked down at the bossman, "What's your name, what do you mean by 'not really' bandits?"

"Laszlo's the name, trapping and hunting be our game. Well, was until they came along... Now, what you see here is all we have left to keep us going," a spark of sadness swam in his eyes.

Quintin regarded the man with skepticism and a small amount of confusion. "Let me get this straight, Laszlo. Something chased you guys from home- or wherever- and rather than pursuing safety, you all decided to become bandits instead. You realize how that sounds, right?"

Laszlo grew fearful and blurted out, "No! I mean yes, I know how it sounds. But you didn't see the look of horror on my people's faces. Some of them are still back there, at our basecamp being—"

"Being used as toys by those monsters!" The man choked up, clenching his jaw tight.

He could hear Laszlo's teeth scrape against each other. "Did you not think to get help? What sort of 'monsters'? Where is your basecamp?"

Laszlo's closed his eyes as an equal reply to the questions, "No. No more until you guarantee our lives. We never killed nobody, just took some supplies from passing caravans to continue fighting is all."

What the man said sounded like the truth, yet his answers only conjured more questions. To complete the [Quest] and gain a new one, he needed to hear the whole story. For that to happen, he either had to get creative with their treatment or prove a level of sincerity to them.

Before answering the demand, he picked Lazlo up for a stroll around the campsite. Nearly every man and woman sat or laid on the ground in exhaustion. The place itself appeared to be little more than a pop-up table that could be taken and moved at a moment's notice. The seriously injured laid inside fur-lined tents, but retained a look of being ready to rumble if someone came knocking.

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Quintin didn't see any prisoners nor anything else untoward. He turned to Laszlo after making the round and spoke softly, "I've chosen to believe you, which is why I won't kill you and your people. But, since that probably isn't enough of a guarantee; what if I told you I can heal everyone here. If I did so, would it be enough to prove that?"

The man gawked while turning his head to look at everyone's miserable state. "Y-You can really do that? Yes! Yes, of course! if you bring everyone back even by just a little bit... Well, you'll have my sincere gratitude and all the answers you can stomach!"

Quintin held his hand out to clinch the deal. "Then we have an agreement."

Laszlo looked from Quintin to his hand, and back before grasping it firmly. "Aye, that we do."

His mind immediately went to the [Savior's Shoulder-Cape] when Laszlo presented his challenge of guarantees. Though he'd never used the [Aura of Healing] option beforehand, it remained that the [Half-Heal] portion did work. Which lent credence to the idea of saving everybody in the camp.

[Savior's Shoulder-Cape]

...

...

•Once per 2 weeks: [Aura of Healing]

—○Health Regeneration: +20[HP] per second.

—○Radius: 20-meters

—○Duration: 7 mins.

Quintin stood at the center of the encampment and with a thought, willed the [Aura of Healing] to activate. A dazzling jet of pure white light shot outward from his position, bathing the entire camp in blessed radiance. All around, the lightly injured and heaviest alike took notice as their wounds closed up. The miraculous splendor of rejuvenation made everyone brighten up. Soon, everyone got back to their feet. They stood there in awe as the [Magicules] of life twinkled in and out of existence.

Even Vissitri, invisible as he was, poked his head out from the battle robe with- what Quintin swore- must be a contented sigh.

Everyone's gaze landed on him as the effects of the healing aura ended. The mostly Human troop came forward to thank him with a word or two from a respectful, if not somewhat fearful distance. Some of the more brazen Dwarves in the group came right up and shook his hand, though.

In large part thanks to Laszlo, the rest of his crew promptly got to work preparing meals and other unresolved issues. While that happened, he and Quintin spoke about the tragedy that befell them that night.

According to him, their basecamp in the Nagelroot Hills was raided by a group of collared beasts and monsters. Those not outright killed in the attack were either imprisoned, tormented, or ended up here below Drake Tail Pass. The different types of monstrous beasts ranged from small and large to anywhere in between. Saying they had wildly different appearances would be an understatement. But one type stood out and had a name; [Dragonkin] of the myriad races.

The most crucial and terrifying aspect Laszlo said best as; "Someone owns those sons'a-bitches. They all had this crimson gods-damned collar around their necks or over a limb if they didn't have one. Those five [Dragonkin] kept them in line somehow. We planned to kill them off first so the rest become disorganized. Though we never could get close enough to the bastards."