As the last bandit falls, Vark continues his movement forward. The unarmored man lying unconscious on the ground catches his eye, and he begins to search him, mostly looking for anything that could identify the man. Upon finding the silver raven, he lifts the item up, showing it to his companions. "Does... anyone recognize this?"

Keeping silence, Thurston will use his divine senses to detect any fiend influence in their prisioner or in the ones that had fallen in battle. 

Archie looks over the bird.  “ I haven’t seen one of these in years!  Ya ya, you say the magic word and it comes to life.  Like your own pet or whatever.  It’ll even help you find the closest collection of bird seed in the area.”

Vark lights up, holding the curio close in front of him. "R-really! I've never had a pet before! Well, there was my mule Gracie but, she doesn't really count. What is the magic word?" he continues beaming at the little metal bird, oblivious to the interrogation happening nearby.

“That’s the tricky part.  I don’t quite know what it is.”

Archie and Vark find four scimitars, four light crossbows, one heavy crossbow, 100 crossbow bolts, one dagger, and one mace amongst the prisoners and the fallen, although all six men are still alive. They have 17 gold, 47 silver and 20 copper pieces between them and all wear leather armour and carry general travelling gear for one day of hiking.

The captured bandits are craven at heart and cower before the angry Goliath.

"A dozen!" One quickly shouts, flinching and holding up his arm, as though afraid that Valaith with lash out either way.

"Plus Korinn, o' course," another adds, "an' 'er priest."

Finally, the wounded one just sits there on the ground, cackling madly to himself.

"The Morrigan will crush you all!"

The other two shoot him a glare. Roll insight.

Thurston detects a residue of fiendish influence on the man who had been carrying the silver raven.

(Insight: 9 ) 

" I would treat that thing with caution." says Thurston to his friends " I sense some fiendish stench in the one who carries it. " says with a steem glance the paladin. 

“Thays interesting that he said The Morrigan, right... it’s not just a name.”  Archibald directs his attention to one of the fearful bandits and slaps him. “What is the Morrigan?  That look in your eye, who are you more afraid of: us or Morrigan?”  Archie presses the knife to his cheek.

Dorno makes his way down the rest of the hill and witnesses the looting and interrogation going on.  Approaching a second late he asks "did they say they are sorry yet?"  "Do they have the nice elf wizard man?  Helloooooo nice elf wizard man!"  He looks around for any signs of the elf with this group and realizes he was not with them.  The innocent firbolg looks on with concern and confusion as people are slapped and there is mention of several names he is not familiar with.

"They said nothing of the elf wizard yet... " says Thurston giving the prisioners a bad eye look. "Where is the elf wizard? Is he alive?" 

Bründir works to bind the arms of the more compliant prisoners while Archie works with the more ominous one, "Jest take a few teeth, if ye need to."

The bandit gulps as he feels the cold steel of Archie's knife press against his skin. He can't help but shake, causing the blade to draw the tiniest thin, red line across his cheek.

"Korinn worships The Morrigan!" He answers hurriedly. "Or she is The Morrigan... or one of them. I don't rightly understand it sir," he adds with hesitant subservience. "She says she is fated for victory."

The wounded bandit chuckles as he hears Dorno's naive words.

"Oh, we've made the elf real comfy. Rankin's seein' to 'is 'ospitality."

Thurston smacks the funny bandit with his hand. 

"Do you think I am funny? " he says " Next time I will smack you with this " he touches his warhammer " and that would be funny. I've asked you two questions. " 

Vark's head lifts up from inspecting the raven upon mention of the Morrigan. he pockets his trinket and begins to help Brundir tie up the unconscious bandits, while still listening quietly to the exchange.

Valaith takes out her own massive hammer and walks over to the wounded, manic bandit and stands over her with her maul in a two-handed grip. She waits quietly, waiting to see if he will answer the questions presented by Thurston. If he does not or instead decides to word vomit again...

Suddenly the air around Valaith becomes bitterly cold and her breath suddenly begins to fog in the air as she wordlessly raises her hammer above her and slams it down into the head on the wounded bandit! She then turns to the other two, her strange eyes looking like hunks of ice. "Answer the questions or end up like him." Even her voice is cold and frightening, not the usual jovial voice her companions have heard.

The bandit responds by beginning to chant in a language that nobody else understands. The words are deep and guttural and it feels like poison on the ears. His eyes swirl and fill with black smoke.

Valaith immediately brings her hammer down on his head, crushing it like a melon. An explosion of thick, black, smoke-like vapour erupts from his shattered skull and wraps itself around the hammer for a moment. Valaith feels its entire length vibrate and shake and then the substance bursts outwards, pouring up into the sky in many thick streams until it is gone entirely.

Valaith shakes the gore from her weapon and looks over at the other bandits. "Do you wish to tell us more?"

Dorno looks over with a bit of horror and his voice quavers a bit.  "Did the scary man say he wasn't sorry for being so mean to nice people?!"  The firbolg definitely seems upset about the level of violence.  After the shock wears off he also asks "what was that?"   "That was not...natural."  He looks up towards the sky where the black vapour was.

The sky is a clear, crystal, cloudless blue. Whatever was there a moment ago, is gone now.

Meanwhile, as Valaith talks, her maul still arcs with sparks of dark energy. The bandits stare at her in horror.

"W- w- what do you wanna know?" One stammers.

Vark chimes in, though more so voicing his thoughts than talking to anyone directly. "...victory over what? What is she planning?" the second question being directed to the captive.