what do you mean everyone's dead? ( from roselle! )
━━━.࿔･｡꒷꒦⁺･ﾟ︶ ๋꒷ִֶָ. the inquisitor.
Iago bites their tongue against a sigh of impatience. They thought their meaning was simple enough.
"I mean I handled it," they grumble as they set to unlacing their shoes with still-smoking hands to be scrubbed clean of any viscera stuck in the soles. They'd only stepped away from camp for a few hours. A little privacy, a little much-needed time to stew and brood and angst and all that. Admittedly, it had to have been a bit startling to see the waif of a sorcerer stomping back to camp with a not insignificant amount of blood splattered across their normally pristine clothes.
"Dead, handled, incapacitated, exhumed- take your pick."
Normally keeping to the outskirts of fights and downplaying their explosive magical prowess, Iago wasn't so attached to that unassuming persona that they'd hold back in a fight on their own. It was easy enough to take care of them. The ambushers were left unrecognizable. Iago, the damsel in distress, walked off without a single scratch. More inconvenienced and annoyed than frightened by the encounter.
They nod the way they came, "I'm only telling you now in case someone goes on a stroll down that path. There's a few less bandits and a few more bodies now. You are welcome."
So much for trying to be considerate.