Doug
*He maintains his stance, shifting his focus toward the highwaymen with the pitchfork, preparing for a thrust, but Astrid gets to him first. The brutalness of the cranial stab sends Aimar stepping back slightly—a stumble, likely caused by fear, turned into a solid backstep as he caught himself. As the kid's body falls to the muddy ground like a sack of flour, he shifts his attention back to the man whose hand has been severed, only to see Astrid lunge forward, plunging her sword deeply into the man's back, the blade piercing through the front wall of his chest, staining the leather of his tunic crimson.*

*Aimar drops his stance, lowering into a fool's guard just as she whispers into the man's ear, watching as she pulls the blade free from his chest. He maintains cautious—though not overtly threatening—toward the assassin, keeping his gaze locked on her as she walks over to the kid, leaning down and whispering to him, much like he had the other bandit. He doesn't seem to react much as her blade is inserted and removed from his chest—the dagger in his skull was already undoubtedly fatal, the blade in the heart was a kill of mercy, a necessity he was familiar with. Many an elk he'd hunted had been rendered paralyzed, but still alive, due to a poorly loosed arrow that had severed its spinal chord. At that point, you had little choice but to end its life, lest it suffer.*

*What he was not prepared for, however, was for the bodies to begin to spontaneously decompose. He stumbled backward, this time barely catching himself, abandoning his stance as he watched the corpses turn grey and bloat, eyes wide as dinner plates, a gasp of fear escaping his lips. He'd seen decomposition before in partially eaten carcasses, but... None so quick. Magic was involved, undoubtedly. He barely seemed to register her question to him, affording her merely a momentary glance upward at her, before his gaze returned back to the corpses.*

"What- what did you do to the-" *He asks the

Question without looking at her, eyes still locked on the bodies, only for him to retch as the corpses reach active decay. He covers his mouth with his left hand, the knuckles on his right white with how strong he was gripping the hilt of his sword, his eyes growing wider than they were, somehow. He quickly rushes into the shrubbery adjacent to the road, emptying the contents of his stomach onto the grass by a tree.*

*It takes him a moment to regain his bearings as he wiped his mouth with the back of his left arm with his forearm. Once they're regained, he straightens back up, still panting slightly from the sudden vomiting, seeing the other woman walking away. He steps forward, entering into a plow stance and pointing the tip of his sword toward her, no longer bothering with attempting not to seem threatening toward her, as he speaks once again.*

"What did you do to them?" *As he asks this, it is somewhat obvious that he is doing his best to maintain his composure. Though his voice has more conviction than it did previously, there is a slight waver in his voice as steals a glance at the bodies while he asks the question, the the corpses now deep into advanced decay.*
Ida
*The criminal stopped her step to look back at Aimar with the same expression she had before, perhaps with a note of confusion as she witnessed the Macen have a very... Strong, perhaps excessive, reaction to her magic. It definitely wasn't the most pleasant sight, but Astrid didn't think it warranted a reaction as intense as his. Her confusion was overtaken by a hint of amusement as his body reacts to the situation, but that was later succeeded by a slight disappointment as Aimar aimed his blade at the person that had perhaps saved his life.*

*Her recently-cleaned sword was now getting hit by the rainfall as she lifted with her right hand the black blade parallel to the ground, aimed towards her fellow Ekremi. Astrid didn't quite understand why he was hostile towards her, but adventurers have a weird sense of justice and perhaps he just wanted to punish her for her brutality in pursuit of efficiency. His question was heard loud and clear, but remained unanswered as they both got soaked by the rain, staring into the eyes of Aimar with the same cold glance from before, this time she was going to stay defensive and wait for any possible reaction as the answer to his question was delayed for a few, very long seconds.*

"It is necrotic magic. It won't be great if the highway patrol or local militias find their freshly killed bodies and begin searching for a culprit. When they get found tomorrow after the rain passes, it will simply be catalogued as an incident, and other bandits will steal all the valuables that could make them recognisable. I simply would not like to have justice after me for such an insignificant loss of life."
** **

*The whole phrase was said in a borderline monotonous voice, and the phrase itself was something only someone with a seriously distorted morality compass could utter, but Astrid almost treated it like an everyday happening one just has to learn to deal with. The Lathian talked as if it was a professional field and she was simply stating the facts of why doing what she did was the best, ignoring the human factor behind all of this. Her apathy was perhaps more disgusting than the blooshed itself.*

*Not breaking visual contact or lowering her weapon, Astrid began walking backwards, away from Aimar and back into her original journey that was being needlessly extended by something that was done in, what must have been, less than a minute. Something that she would probably never ever think of again either, but the saved apparently had a bone to pick with his saviour.*
Doug
*He remains at guard as he listens to her speak. Necrotic magic... That would explain it. A type he had heard of, but had never seen in action. Until now, that is. The corpses had already become mostly bone by the time she finishes speaking, Aimar's eyes narrowing.*

"And so you defiled their corpses, denied them a proper cremation?" *His gaze remains on her now that her sword is pointed at him, his voice now more stable. Why was she so worried about their deaths being investigated? It wouldn't be too hard for the two of them to explain what happen, say the killings were in self defense against what were likely outlaws.* "They may have been highwaymen, but the bodies of even such as them do not deserve that disrespect—especially when it is for a reason such as yours."

*He doesn't pursue as she begins to walk backward, but neither does he lower his sword.* "Fine, then. Go, if that is what you wish. I thank you for your aid in disposing of those bandits, but not the means in which you did so." *Quite the opposite of thankful, in fact. Though he is rather disgusted at what she did, to do something like attacking her would be beyond foolish. Not only did she help him, she was clearly a capable fighter, one he wasn't entirely sure he could come to blows with her and come out on top—and the thought of his body ending up like those of the bandits nearly sent a shiver up his spine.* "I will say this, however, before you leave: despite my not wishing it, should we ever cross blades I would have no qualms with ridding the world of such magic as yours."