Bandit 3 suffers the same fate as he compatriots as he drops into a boneless heap as a result of his injuries.  By this time their leader has retrieved whatever he had intended to obtain from the chest and looked back to see just how hopeless the situation was.  Without a moment of hesitation, he utters a word of power and takes off at high speed into the woods moving far faster than would be physically possible without magical assistance.  The prone mage looked with shocked wide eyes as he was the only one left in any condition to fight in the truly technical sense knowing that a steady breeze would be enough to knock him out once more.  Seeing no other real choice left for him, he lays back on his bedroll and lifts his hands in surrender.<strong>"I give up, please don't hurt me..."</strong><br/><br/>Once the din of battle finally fades away, the relative silence is pierced by a low bestial growl that wavers in such a way to suggest that it could very well be a chuckle or laugh from beneath the heavy sheeted object.  Once the sound subsided it was replaced by a voice of equal gruffness as it spoke Common with words that came out oddly as though being mauled by sharp teeth before finally reaching the listener.<strong>"I must ask; was the illusion a means of distracting those men, a way of fulfilling your voyeuristic fetish, or something to achieve both at the same time?"</strong>There was another low growl, though this time it managed to convey a sense of amusement more so than anything else.<strong>"Either way, would you all be so kind as to help me out of here?"</strong>