To say that Maralee was in dire need of money would have been a gross understatement. A woman with expensive tastes and a penchant for gambling, the bandit had a way of spending her coins before they had even had a chance to firmly settle into her money pouch. She lived every day as though it were her last, fully immersing herself in her hedonistic tendencies. Not but a day ago she had managed to score a hefty sum, and now all she had to show for it was a half empty bottle of fine elven wine. A bottle which was quickly growing empty as she lounged against a tree, waiting for the next unsuspecting fool she intended to prey upon.
Banditry, she had discovered early on after leaving Connlaoth for personal reasons, was an exceptionally easy way to make one's way in the world. There seemed to be an overabundance of cowards in the world, none of whom ever seemed to have the balls to stand up to her. The bards could sing epic tales of brave heroes all they wanted, but she had yet to ever encounter any such person. Which was precisely how she preferred it. It made her job quick and easy, and generally without the need for bloodshed.
This was not to say that every single robbery went down smoothly. There were always exceptions to the rule, and cowards were no different. There were two types of cowards; a fact which Maralee was certain in. There were men who were cowards and knew this, and then there were cowards who thought they were heroes. The first form of coward was easy enough to handle, but the others always proved slightly more difficult. They inevitably wished to prove some brand of manliness to her, and of course she was then obliged to send a volley of poisoned darts into them. It was a tiresome process, but one which she felt was vital in maintaining the balance.
This balance was one which Maralee viewed herself as the guardian of, though she highly doubted any law officials would ever agree with her methods. She held a firm belief in spreading the wealth, most particularly to those who found themselves living in the slums of the cities. Since those who were wealthy tended to not share her ideals, she had taken it upon herself to bear the burden of enlightening them. She viewed it as more a give-and-take arrangement rather than a one-sided robbery, and often told them as much as she left them stranded without a horse and clothing in the middle of the road. It was for their own good, but not even she could ever maintain a straight face when informing them of this fact.
Swishing the bottle of wine before her, Maralee glumly stared at the dark liquid which seemed to be disappearing at a far more rapid rate than originally anticipated. She had been resting against the tree for the better part of the day, a point which her sore back and ass protested against dearly. She had chosen the spot due to its ideal location for springing an ambush, but as the day went on she had grown bored after hours of nothing to do but listen to the birds chirp overhead. The bottle of wine in her pack had eventually proven entirely too tempting.
Hiccuping softly, Maralee was just corking off the bottle and about to call it a day when she caught a glimpse of an approaching traveler through the brush. Her vision was more than a little bleary after finishing off half a bottle of strong wine in one sitting, and the waning light of evening did nothing to improve her scrutiny of the figure. Normally she would have been careful to appraise her target before attacking (soldiers and bounty hunters were not people she wished to meddle with), but she'd be damned if she didn't at least leave with a fistful of coins to her name after wasting an entire day of waiting for just this opportunity.
Quickly tying a black scarf about the lower portion of her face, Maralee silently crept around the side of the tree, slowly pulling out her hand crossbow and locking in a bolt in the process. Patiently listening for the person's approach she counted down the seconds, and then at the very last moment sprung out from her hiding spot and into the middle of the path, her crossbow leveled at the figure's chest.
"Your money or your life!" She exclaimed, realizing only afterward her dire mistake.
The blasted half-elf had the looks of a mage.