The bandits of the Endless Plains & The village ceremony

His voice spread out like waves, powerful and unyielding. The group of men who had followed the village elder towards Gresvin could not help but be captivated by Gresvin's words. They had never thought such a man would appear before them, and they would owe him for saving their lives.

Within seconds of Gresvin's words, the small group unanimously voiced, "We thank thy benefactor for saving our lives!" Their shouts, too, rang out over the skies of the village, and they gave a bow in thanks.

Gresvin seemed rather flustered by the sudden thanks and tried to stop the group of men. "No, no, I can't accept this. It is me who has to thank you for your kindness." He lifted them up, speaking frantically.

"Aye, these men are indeed right," a calm voice interrupted Gresvin's attempts to stop them from bowing. The village elder once more approached Gresvin before he, too, bowed and said thanks: "I, Bran ap Llywelyn, as the village elder of Coedwig, thank thy benefactor for saving our lives and giving us a chance at life once more!" 

No matter how Gresvin tried to stop them, they refused to listen. He could only sigh in resignation and, with one last plea, "Please, elder, stop this. I hear your thanks; now could you please stop bowing."

The group seemed to feel their thanks had been sincere enough, and this time, they listened to Gresvin. Once they stopped bowing, the group quickly helped move the remaining debris and corpses. Once the area was clean, the group gathered once more, this time with all the remaining villagers.

Gresvin was not a villager and, as such, did not get too close to the group. He left the villagers to their own devices and decided to go to the bandits' corpses.

He wanted to see if they had anything of value on them. He took his time sorting out the weapons, armor, and items the bandits had with them. They were divided into groups based on their categories. Something to take note of was that Gresvin only gathered the loot from the 15 bandits he had killed with his arrows. He refrained from even touching the loot of the others.

"3 damaged simple short bows, 1 hunting bow with some fletched arrows. Barely enough for a set. 12 leather vests with different degrees of damage and 8 short daggers, and the rest seem to be different makeshift weapons." The amount of good loot was not anything to be amazed about, and Gresvin expected it to be entirely wrong, but this seemed to have exceeded his expectations.

The only things worth mentioning were the hunting bow and the fletched arrows. They were a minor level higher than the current setup he had, but the rest were worth noting.

'I should sell these to the village. Maybe they would have some use for them,' he sighed and shifted his attention to the last 'mountain' of spoils.

These were the random items that the bandits had with them, but they really weren't that much. 'Bandits will only be bandits, huh' Gresvin scoffed mockingly. The items with them were only a few Aurums, a few different pieces of cloth, and some simple food like bread. Not even good bread; it seemed as if it was on the verge of rotting away. Seeing this, Gresvin threw it away in disgust; he had no need for such things.

Gresvin reached out and counted the money. "25 Aurums, well, that's not too bad for a band of lowlifes," he mused. Aye, that really is not much. It seemed we were lucky to have been attacked by Skirmishing Outlanders," a voice sounded from behind Gresvin.

Gresvin reacted swiftly, and with a movement, his sword was drawn. The sword came to a halt before the throat of a man, "Village elder?! I am so sorry," he excused, sheathing his sword.

"Haha, no, no, it was my mistake. It seems the nerves of battle are still running high," he laughed forcefully, sweat dripping from his brow.

"Are you alright?" Gresvin eyed the elder and asked in concern. "Yes, yes. I am very much alright." the Village elder spoke smilingly.

Gresvin calmed down a bit and reacted to what the elderly man said; he could not help but ask, "Elder, you said these were Skirmishing Outlanders? Who are they?"

"Ah well, they are a type of bandit found in our region. You see, we have quite a few types, actually. These bandit groups are very poorly equipped and could be considered the lowest of the low in terms of strength and size. There are a few other types, but none are as poor as the outlanders," the village elder patiently explained.

Gresvin looked astonished by this newfound information. He knew that bandits ran rampant in the Endless Plains, but he did not think that there would actually be a hierarchy of sorts. Gresvin quickly asked, "Then what types are there in this region?" his eyes oozed with curiosity, 

"Mm, well there are your normal mountain or steppe bandits, which are considered to be one level higher than the outlanders, especially the steppe bandits, they are a mounted bandit group. Normally they would not raid small villages, they would mostly attack caravans and merchants rather than us small folk. Then there are nordic or sea raiders further west. These guys are definitely one of the strongest types in our region. Overall these are the ones who mostly roam in our region, as for others I am not too sure. The highest I know of are the nordic raiders." The village elder shrugged.

Gresvin took in the elder's words like a sponge. 

Gresvin sighed with a rather grateful tone, "Then we really were lucky to have only encountered outlanders." Gresvin could not help but frown, thinking of the consequences if it had been a much stronger group.

"But what can I do? I am only one warrior, barely a mid-stage warrior (Rank 2)." he thought silently.