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"Fethin' gaje scum!" Hanzi swore as he strode forward as if he were a hurricane of bad karma. He drew back his foot and aimed for the hurt bandit's ribs. His heavy hiking boots bore much force and hopefully break a couple ribs in the process. If there was any weapon visible Hanzi would make a play for it and snatch it.
He would then tackle the man down the ground and smash his face against the street. Not with killing force, but with a hey-remember-me? type of blow.
Hanzi would then turn the bandit's head in the direction of the passed out vyssie guards, pulling the man's head by the hair and keeping a knee in his back to secure the man to the ground.
"You have two choices right now friend," Hanzi whispered into the man's ear. "Show me to where they took her or we wait for those blades over there to wake up and they'll ask you where she is. I don't think they'll ask too kindly however, 10 guards probably belong to someone mighty more ferocious than me. I wonder how long you'd survive the torture.
"But let us be friends," Hanzi snarled and struck the man's head against the road again. "Show me where lady was taken and I'll let you go- no worse for wear, except perhaps a bruised ego. Better to have your life than to find out what your liver tastes like, no?"
Hanzi held firm in case the man decided to flee. He'd make the man show him the safehouse, to guard against the lies he'd likely tell.
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