Melian Galanodel
Eladrin Bladesinger
AC: 13 (16) HP: 31/34
PP: 14 PIv: 17 PIs: 11
Conditions: Mage Armor (8h)
Concentrating: --

The wizard does a lazy patrol around the camp while her siblings argue and she winces as their voices are raised, worried that it might draw too much attention. She narrows her eyes as they start using their own names in front of the prisoners.

When Caelyn snaps, Melian considers that killing them outright might be better; they know the group’s names and faces and intent after all. But the thought is fleeting. Shameful. She feels both the weight of her vows and training and the reassurance of the Seldarine in knowing that killing them would be wrong. Even without doing so, she knows she could not draw a moonblade to strike down a bound and unarmed prisoner. Now resolute, she turns and walks back to the group, patting Caelyn on the shoulder as she faces the prisoners.

"I will not raise my blade against unarmed and bound prisoners." Her voice is even and calm. She stares down the prisoners without facing her siblings and Vala. "But we are presented with the logistical issue of what to do with you all. So I say we just let you go."

She raises a hand to stop any arguing for the time being and continues, still addressing the prisoners. "It seems to me that you’re all fairly low on the totem pole and could learn to find good, honest work elsewhere. I know you will not consider going back to the camp or raising any alarms against us because I’m sure you realize how easily we infiltrated your camp and took you unaware. You see before you a cleric who can read your soul and knows you’re Blacktalon and lying, a druid who tracked you across the forest and now knows you and your hearts and can track you no matter where you go in the Sword Coast. The warrior behind me has survived injuries that would kill any of you outright and laughed in the face of death. The other one has dragon blood and a pact with the lower planes and you can scarcely imagine the kind of power that entails. As for me," she pauses dramatically and calls upon the Weave - her eyes glow bright silver, reflecting and amplifying the waning moonlight tenfold, an eldritch blue glow surrounds her and her voice booms like thunder. "I have the arcane at my beck and call. Make no mistake, if we are met with any organized resistance at the camp we will track you down and we will find you."

She then stands up and faces her own group, the magic around her fading slowly. "So I say we cut them loose. Loog can present us as new recruits, replacing the men who just deserted. Deserters who would be unwelcome at their camp. "

Spoiler: OOC
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Minor Illusion and Prestidigitation to crank Scary Wizard up to 11.