The bandits surrounded Morg. After a moment, their leader came forward. Unlike the rest of the gang, who appeared to be runaways from the surrounding farming communities, he was a large man who moved like he had fought for his life before.
“I’ll take your purse then, traveler. Instead of or in addition to taking your life. It’s up to you.”
“I have no money to give you,” Morg said quietly, eyes on the ground.
Taking his response as a sign of weakness, the man strode forward and yanked Morg’s cloak from his shoulders, revealing the his bulbous, purple arm.