You claim their coin but are to make an example.

"Tell you what. You can keep your paltry lives if you throw down your money and walk away," you lift your chin higher and stare down your nose at the bandit captain. Thankfully, he complies immediately, but his hands shake so much that he nearly unfastens his whole belt. Good grief, this man was pathetic. The dusky woman at last bears the first hints of fear in her expression, but her eyes look past you. Damn. In your grand display you forgot to keep an eye on the men behind you. One of them swipes his dagger off the ground and begins rushing at you. Skinny and suffering from jaundice by the looks of his eyes. You thank the stars that one of the cannon fodder took the initiative. Of all the bandits, the three women look like the most daunting opponents.

Pivoting on your heel, you arc your hand back toward the man charging you. Another day, another deadman. Roll the wrist, flex fingers, ball a fist, raise thumb, aaaand point the index finger. "Wallow in the Mother's embrace." you say, the words dripping with a heavy dread. Arm outstretched, you let loose a javelin of tenebrous unlight from the tip of your extended finger. The solid, smoky energy lances into the sickly bandit's face, but he remains standing. He looks puzzled as he wipes the small smudge of black slime from his cheek, but you smirk knowingly. The fool can only grin and continue his charge. Two steps later, and he crumples to the ground, howling in agony. He claws at his cheek, his body curled in a fetal position. Spasms wrack his torso as the flesh around his cheek turns ashen, then black, and finally begins sloughing off like inky, dark milk curds. In a matter of seconds his screams fall silent, but his face continues its rapid decomposition. After not even half a minute, nothing remains of his head besides a black, steaming, half-rotten skull.

Glaring around, you see this was the final nail in the coffin. With his morale shattered, the bandit captain shrieks and makes a run for it. All of the other bandits hastily toss their coin pouches at the dirt road and dash off in every direction. Standing opposite you is the dusky woman. She shakes her head disapprovingly and whips her pouch at the road, never breaking eye contact until she turns to leave.

"That could have gone better," you grumble. Once the last of them disappears into the treeline, you dismiss the illusion. Seven coin pouches sit on the ground. Wow, you scared one of them so bad, he even through his backup pouch on the ground. A thought about whether or not to leave the body crosses your mind, but you were neither gravedigger nor necromancer. Let the wolves have their fill, you chuckle before looting his pockets. Aside from his coin pouch, you find:
-- 1 Dagger
-- 1 set of gaming dice
-- 1 flask of poor-quality rum
-- 1 pouch of starleaf smoking tobacco

A man of varying tastes. The rum could come in handy for bribing someone with a nagging thirst. The starleaf, on the other hand, was a rare treat. Even a village leader might enjoy such a fine gift. You pocket all of the procured items and gather up the coins. A man of your keen mind can multitask well enough, and with another few hours of walking ahead, you set out down the road while meticulously counting out your newly acquired wealth. By your count, you've attained a cumulative 225 gold pieces among the six bandits. More than enough to get started in some pissant little village. With the counting behind you, you hasten your pace toward the sleepy little village full of unsuspecting wombs.