>Anger flashed again as the trapped ranger in her ruined armor sneered at you, sharp, lovely features turning ugly.
>"I know what your doing," she hissed, rocking forward in her bindings "and I am telling you that I am NOT buying it, you wouldn't dare leave me here."
>A true statement, but her increasing agitation showed that there was a hint of doubt, just enough for you to mess with her.
>"No no," you told her, taking a final step back and opening the door with a creak "it's fine, I guess we can just wait for that OTHER ranger who's survived these past couple months to save you."
>"YOU SON OF A Bi-"
>The door slamming shut cut off the furious woman, her ravings now muffled.
>"Ok, you've made her angry," the waifish spirit chimed in as you waited outside the room, a dopey grin on your face. "What now?"
>Easy dear spirit, now you just need a P'Orc.
>Her cocked eyebrow showed that she had failed to grasp the genius of your plan as you scanned the area for one of the porcine creatures, eventually seeing a tiny one with a cross bow cowering behind a barrel, frightened by the sleeping, sticky remains your earlier battle.
>The poor thing was so frightened that she couldn't even bring herself to run as you stalked over, merely cowering behind her barrel more and more as you strode over, whistling as you walked.
>She, like the rest of the archers, was a tiny, scrawny thing, her leather rag covered body flat as a board and her black haired head mostly hidden behind a helmet too sizes too big.
>The girl gave a yelp and pulled out her crossbow, most likely just remembering she had it, and panic fired, the quarrel whiffing past your ear and flying off into the distance.
>Your grin remained unchanged, a terrifyingly cheerful grin that made the P'Orc's brown eyes widen in fear, her body freezing up as you pick her up and slung her over your shoulder, striding back towards the room where your raging ex-companion was held.