18+ Mist and Shadows

Marcus had been about to reply to the Imperials goading when both he and the other man, the Nord-Imperial hybrid by the look of it, made his way out of the room, and as far as the Imperial vampire could tell, out of the keep entirely."I suppose we'd better follow them. We are supposed to be working together" he left the room, making his own way out of the keep, towards the cities main gates. He could easily have caught the mercenaries that had already left, should he shift into his wolf form.

However, he was with a group, and didn't want to reveal all his surprises at once. There'd been plenty of Stormcloaks, and a few of his fellow legionnaires that knew his secret, but most of them were dead by now. As he made his way towards the gates of the city, a man in a rangers garb rushed past him, also heading for the city gates. The man didn't seem familiar, but it did seem like he had a similar task.Which meant that the Jarl probably didn't trust the mercenaries and Marcus to get the job done. Or at least, not to have Markarths best interests at heart. Which, was true, probably. The mercenaries were in it for the gold, Marcus was following orders of the covens leadership.He didn't particularly care what happened to the city or its inhabitants.

Nivani followed the others outside, well aware of the strange look the ranger had shot at her. Perhaps he suspected that she was something other than she appeared to be. Or he'd just noted that, unlike most of the mercenaries around her, she was wearing nothing in the way of armour. What clothing she was wearing was fairly revealing. Either way, she wasn't overly worried. Night was falling when she left the keep. She caught the elven woman and Imperial mercenary just outside the gates, having been pointed in the right direction by the guards at the gate. The group may not have been together, but apparently someone had told the guards to inform the others where to go. Some village on the Karth.

Marek walked alone through the night, only the faint light of the stars to see by. The darkness didn't bother him. To him it was safety, security, and stealth. Although, with the 'Mist' that was spreading throughout Reach, whether the night would stay an ally remained to be seen. For now though he refrained from lighting a torch for fear of attracting any unwanted attention on the road to the northern village. He'd been walking for a couple hours now and the night was at it's blackest. He knew the village that he was going to. It wasn't all that far from Markarth so he knew that he would reach it before morning which would give him some time to scout the surrounding terrain.

True to his prediction, the small village came into view just as the horizon turned from inky black, to a deep blue, in the anticipation of the rising sun. Before he crested the rise in the road, Marek turned and lightly jumped across the ditch and into the rocky hills that surrounded the village. No one had survived one of the attacks as of yet and as a result, very little information was available about their nature. Until Marek knew what he was dealing with he would take his time and gather what he could from the surrounding area. It wouldn't be wise to advance into the village alone when backup was only minutes away, only to get ambushed and killed. The others would be arriving soon, assuming they hadn't stopped during the night. He would meet them in the village when they showed up. Until then he would scour the surrounding countryside in search of any clues that would give him a hint as to the nature of the threat they were up against.

Marek began moving around the village in a clockwise direction, his grey, experienced eyes taking in every detail. Before he had gone very far he came across a curious set of boot prints headed towards the village. The boots that had made them were nothing like the guards heavily armored ones so he discarded any thought of the guards having come by here. Someone else had just entered the village from the hills. Curious, Marek followed the tracks down and into the outskirts of the village where he stood in the shadow of a small outbuilding and watched the guards moving about. He wasn't worried so much about them seeing him as he was whoevers tracks he was following now. As he watched from his hiding place, Marek finally spotted a cloaked man flit from the corner of one building and up the steps into another. Marek stepped out into the street and caught the attention of one of the guards, who had also seen the man and was moving to investigate. Pulling out the parchment with the Jarls seal on it, Marek flashed it towards the guard and shook his head in an indication for him to remain where he was.

Reaching the steps, Marek drew his sword quietly padded up the steps and into the hut after the man. It wasn't hard to find him. The cloaked figure was standing near a table set for two near the far wall. He had a bow and quiver at his back and Marek could see the tip of a sword sheath sticking out from under his cloak. Uneaten food was still on the table along with wine. A patch of dark red could be seen on the carpet near the mans feet; blood or perhaps wine. Either way, Marek would deal with it after he had dealt with the man. Just as the figure turned around and faced him, Marek stepped across the small room and brought his sword up, pressing the tip into the hollow at the base of the mans throat where his collar bones met. He stared coldly at the man for a moment before saying, "Morning. You wouldn't mind explaining to me what you're doing here would you..." Now that he had a better look at him, Marek could see that the sword he wore was that of the Rangers. He eyed it for a second and added, "...Ranger?" He knew that the Rangers were generally a peaceful group, unless you were a bandit, but Marek still didn't lower his sword, lest the man take the opportunity to reverse their situation.

Jorunn didn't even flinch from the blade. He stood staring at the man for a few seconds. Then he took a step away from the blade, threw down the hood on his head, and pulled the mask that covered his mouth and nostrils down. The Ranger looked up at the man.
"You walk very loudly." He said simply. "My name is Jorunn, and yes, I am a Ranger. The Jarl of Markarth requested our assistance, and I answered his call. Something about strange disappearances, and a mist." He finished.

Turning around, he began examining the table, practically ignoring the man. He noticed a strange chip in the leg of the table, bending down next to it, he began to examine it. It was from a weapon, that much was for sure. It wasn't very deep, meaning it wasn't swung with much force. It was possible that the gash was made from a deflected weapon. Noticing an Iron sword, Jorunn stood up, and walked past the man, who he assumed to be one of the Mercenaries that the Jarl had hired. He bent over, and picked up the blade, and spun back around in a 180 degree turn.
Twirling the blade, Jorunn leaped forward, past the man once again, and swung the sword at the table, stopping it about an inch from actually touching the table. He slowly pushed the blade into the gash on the leg, attempting to see if it would fit. The sword did not. Jorunn dropped it, and knelt down next to the table, examining the leg. He ran his hand along the gash. "Interesting." He mumbled to himself. He stood up, and turned to the Mercenary, who still seemed to be standing in the same place.

"A battle appears to have been fought here, although, not a long one. The blood splatter on the ground indicates someone was hurt, but the small amount of blood present seems to indicate it wasn't a fatal wound. Who ever was here was interrupted in their meal time. I would assume dinner due to the time frame of the attack, which the Jarl was able to estimate. The mist, coupled with the probable darkness as it WAS dinner time, means that visibility was low. I highly doubt anyone who survived the attack could really have know what was going on." He said. Waving at the man next, Jorunn looked and pointed at the gash in the leg of the table. "That was made by a weapon I am not familiar with, and I am familiar with most. The grooving almost resembles that of a Forsworn sword, but it has differences to it." He finished up, turning his attention back to the stranger.

Marek raised an eyebrow as the Ranger, Jorunn, went about reenacting what might have happened to the occupants of the house. He totally ignored Marek, which was a brave and stupid thing to do really, considering he could have killed him with a small thrust of his sword. He must have been either very confident in his own abilities or he was certain that Marek wasn't an enemy. Sheathing his sword, Marek stepped forward and eyed the gash in the table leg that Jorunn had pointed out but he didn't pay it any real mind. Instead he straightened up and held his hand out towards the door.

"Then its not much help to us unfortunately. I suggest we talk with the guards outside since they've already had a chance to canvas the village. Besides, the rest of the Jarls mercs will be here soon. They can help search for anything the Guards might have missed." Turning on his heel, Marek strode outside into the grey predawn. The village was shrouded in fog, making it difficult to see more than fifty feet or so. However he could faintly hear the sounds of conversation and the soft patter of feet carried over the still air.

Nivani and the others caught up to the Imperial mercenary and girl quickly enough, even though it was night, and foggy. For her, it was no problem, she preferred travelling at night rather than the day. She suspected it was the same for the Imperial with the long, fur lined coat as well. It apparently, wasn't obvious to the others, but Nivani knew another vampire when she saw it. Even if he wasn't attacking anything with a pulse.

The Altmer woman, though, didn't seem to have any problems. Maybe she'd participated in operations where stealth and speed were imperative. She was a high elf after all, and from what she'd heard, Thalmor liked their night raids. Though, maybe it was a little unfair to paint all elves with the same brush. Either way, the Khajiit vampiress didn't particularly care. She'd joined up with the mercs, and she couldn't complain about who she was saddled with.

Shortly after they'd caught up to the girl and the merc, the village came into sight. The gates were open, probably by the guards the jarl had sent earlier. The group made there way inside, and she could see the outlines of armoured and armed figures moving around in the opening spaces of the village. "We should try to find out what happened. Look around, talk to people, maybe" she suggested, approaching a tall figure, who turned out to be the handsome merc she'd met in the keep. "Find anything interesting?"

Jorunn nodded at the mercenary, and followed him out of the building. As he walked towards a group of guards, the rest of the mercenaries showed up, entering through the main gate of the village at the front. The Khajiit he had eyed earlier walked up to the front of the group, and began walking in the direction of Jorunn and the mercenary he was walking with. Jorunn pulled his mask up over his mouth and nose, and then flipped his hood up, back over his head. "Find anything interesting?" She asked, stopping in front of them. Jorunn raised an eyebrow. "A battle was fought here. A short one, and not bloody, by the looks of it. I found one small pool in one of the houses, but nothing more. It didn't even look like there was a trail out of the house. There was also a strange gash in one of the tables legs. It seems to be made from a weapon I have never seen before, and I have seen most." He informed the Khajiit woman.

"We should try to find out what happened. Look around, talk to people, maybe" Marcus agreed, glancing around at the group of guards, and the mercenary that had been waiting with the Khajiit vampire when the others had first arrived. "I'll speak with the guardsmen."

Putting his best Legionnaires march into his step, he approached the group. He was counting on the guards noticing this and perhaps realizing they weren't dealing with just another mercenary. If they were anything like their jarl, it would be a point in his favour. They noticed alright. "What's going on here, guardsman?" Marcus asked, and the guard made a sweeping gesture with his arm. "Your guess is as good as mine, sir. The place was abandoned when we got here"

"Drop the sir. Completely abandoned?" Marcus replied.

"Yeah. Like everyone just up an' left. Mighty strange."

Marcus had to agree. There was no real signs that the villagers had put up a fight. The gates were open, which he felt was more than a little odd. "Were the gates open when you arrived?"

"Yeah. But that's nothin' suspicious. Karthstead has an open door policy for travellers in need."

"Really? Even with this strange mist?" Marcus asked, generally surprised.

"Especially with the mist. Why, you think some bastard took advantage of that?"

"Perhaps.But unlikely. How would one man get an entire village to do as he said?" Marcus replied. "Thank you for the help" the guard, taking that as his cue to leave, inclined his head, and rejoined the group. The vampire sighed and looked around. Vampires could have been responsible, but it wasn't likely. Most of the guards and soldiers knew what vampires looked like. There would've been signs of a battle.

Besides, there were no vampires in the Reach right now. Or at least, none from the Bloodlet Throne. And the only other vampire he'd seen was currently a few metres away, speaking with the ranger Marcus had seen leaving Markarth.

Ardus left the group, and noticed that the Imperial in the furlined coat was already speaking with one of the guardsmen. He also noticed that the man that had been waiting for them inside the jarls keep was also there, with the ranger. The place looked more abandoned than anything. He strolled through the village, glancing at the houses. No pools of blood, no dropped weapons or shields. And he'd never heard of a spell that could make a village full of people just vanish.

He turned towards one of the houses and started towards it. He'd spent most of his life hunting people. And he knew that to properly hunt an individual, the hunter had to tear through their life. And knowing someones' life made hunting them that much easier. Though the job wasn't to bring back the villagers, there might be some hint as to who'd taken them.

The door, like all the others, had been opened, but it didn't look like it had been kicked open. The pain lock wasn't damaged, and neither was the door jamb. A foul smell reached his nose, but it wasn't the scent of a corpse. A shattered jug lay near a table, beside a toppled chair. 'So, what. They let their abductor inside, and then decided to fight?' He continued his examination of the small house, entering the bedroom next. The room itself was nothing impressive, but he found some rather interesting indications of violence inside. The sheets were thrown aside, as if someone had leapt out of bed. And, judging by the dark red spots on the sheets, they'd been beaten down. That, or whoever'd lived there previously had some really odd bedroom habits.

Tyresius Vonn made his way down the road towards the small, apparently abandoned village of Karthstead. The early morning fog pressed in around the paladin, but despite rumours of a strange mist causing the disappearances of the locals. That's what had drawn him in the first place, and he very much doubted the mist itself was responsible. No, they were caused by something far more sinsister, and Tyresius was determined to find out what. And put a stop to it. And, judging by the headache that was starting to form, he'd come to the right place.

The paladin hadn't been summoned to Markarth hold. He hadn't been invited by anyone either . That would probably irritate the jarl, but Tyresius didn't care. He answered to only one being, and he certainly wasn't mortal. His fingers strayed to the symbol of Arkay on his breastplate, and he found himself what trials he'd face here. He wondered what could have taken the villagers from their homes. He had some friends in the Markarth guard, and they'd passed some reports along to him. Unfortunately, they'd all been rather vague.

He doubted it was ghouls. The creatures were bloodthirsty enough, but they were also cowards. It was unlikely they'd come anywhere near a dwelling with more than two or three people in or around it. Lycans were equally unlikely. That left vampires, but as the reports had indicated, there had been little sign of violence at the abandoned villages. Tyresius sighed, thoroughly confused, but eager to find answers. 'If only this blasted fog would let up' he thought.

Then, as if in response to his unspoke complaint, the wind blew, shifting the folds of the paladins black cloak, and the bank of fog. A village was revealed, and Tyresius spotted several figures inside. Some wore the uniform of the markarth guard, but many wore an assortment of armour and clothing. "Mercenaries." He muttered, the disdain clear in his voice. " I should have known they'd be swarming to offer their services." Without further delay, he entered the village, ignoring the mercenaries and guardsmen alike, and began searching the ground near the gates and walls, hoping to find an as yet undiscovered clue.

The Khajiit woman suggested everyone take a look around. The Imperial that wasn't wearing any armour went off to speak with one of the guards. The other Imperial, the one with the hard face and cold eyes, went into one of the houses. Nathariel didn't want to stand around and do nothing, so she walked towards the outer limits of the village. Towards the walls. It was possible the man who'd been at the jarls hold, or the ranger, had checked the area already, but she wasn't going to bet on it. The walls hadn't been damaged, as far as she could tell. She glanced up at the picketed tips of the wall, but she couldn't see marks left from grappling hooks.

She turned her attention from the walls to the ground. It hadn't rained recently, so finding any usable prints was unlikely. But she did find something else. A scrap of fabric, a pale tan colour, that could have come from a tunic or pants leg. She frowned, and picked it up. There was definitely signs of a struggle in the dirt, but no blood. No weapons, or shields, but she had the feeling someone had been chased down here. "Looks like not everyone went willingly.Or was caught by surprise" She muttered to herself.

Alicia kept to herself for the most part. She was no investigator, and she certainly wasn't any kind of proper mercenary. With her plain robes and lack of serious weaponry, she could have been mistaken for a villager. If the place hadn't been a ghost town when she and the others had arrived. Besides a few guards, that was. She took a discrete look around, noting the lack of evidence of violence. Outside, at least. While she was no sleuth, it didn't take a genius to figure that someone, or something, had taken the villagers completely by surprise. And then vanished completely with them. 'Where are they now?' She wondered silently. Then shuddered as several unwelcome images flashed into her mind, product of her overactive imagination. She looked around for the mercenary she'd offered to pay, and spotted him heading inside one of the houses. She followed, careful not to get in anyones way. she entered the same house, wincing at the smell of spoilt foodstuffs. "Have you found anything?" She asked the house in general, not quite sure where he'd gone to.

"Have you found anything?" Carn recognized the girls voice from inside the house. The bounty hunter rolled his eyes. 'Leave the kid alone for five minutes and she's already wandering around asking stupid questions.' Reminding himself that the girl had indeed promised to pay him, he refrained from teaching her a few interesting swear words. He turned out of the room, not seeing anything particularly interesting inside. He found her staring in the main room, looking uncertain. "Come on, kid. Let's go meet up with the others." He said.

Outside, the fog had begun to dissipate a little, but it was still grey, for the most part. He spotted the Khajiit woman, standing with the other bounty hunter and a ranger character. He dropped a hand to the pommel of his hand and a half sword, and shot a glance at the newest arrival. An Imperial with a crossbow and greatsword. He had a distinct impression of disdain on his face, and looked almost like he was in pain. "Not much to see in the houses. A little blood, so I'm guessing this was a surprise attack." He shrugged. "You guys find anything?" He nodded towards the Imperial."And what's wrong with him?"

Marek shot an irritated glance at the ranger as he related his findings inside the house to the Khajiit. Marek didn't have anything in particular to add to the report so he stayed silent until the ranger was finished. He was busy eyeing up the others as they skulked around the village. He wanted to know who was good at what and how each of them operated so that he didn't have to worry about it later. He watched the young woman who'd been tagging along with the Imperial mercenary walk timidly across the courtyard and into the house the man had gone into earlier. Marek hadn't figured out what her relation was to the Imperial yet. She didn't strike him as the mans daughter or romance. Perhaps a helpful wanderer he picked up during his travels. She looked like a healer or rookie mage. He'd have to keep an eye on her he decided, she could be useful but she could also be a weak link.

The rest of the group looked capable but Marek had growing concern about the Khajiit woman. He knew that many Khajiit were very proficient fighters even without weapons due to their claws and fangs but this woman didn't look like a fighter in the same way as the rest of the group. She looked like a killer. A stalker. Although no one could have picked up on it from his expression, he was more wary of her than any of the other mercs. She was likely the most dangerous of the group despite her total lack of weaponry. Marek would be sure not to let his guard down while she was near.

Bringing his attention back to the Ranger and the Khajiit he decided he might as well get to work finding any more evidence from the attack. Glancing at the Ranger, Marek nodded and muttered that he was going to check the perimeter before stalking off towards the open gate. The ground inside the village was covered with small pebbles and other such debris that made it next to impossible to track someone by their foot steps. In the the surrounding countryside though, the ground was much softer, consisting of moss, mud, and thick grass in the spaces not covered by the huge boulders that were common in the Reach. Being a bounty hunter, Marek was used to tracking his quarry through all sorts of terrain and as such he had become a faily competent tracker; He had yet to lose a mark yet. Once he was outside the village he jumped over the ditch on the side of the road and retraced his own tracks through the foothills to the point that he had seen the Ranger enter the village.

The sun was rising and the fog that surrounded the village was beginning to disappate, affording him a better view of the countryside. Marek climbed a large rock not too far from where he was and knelt on top. From his perch he could see the entire village and the surrounding walls as well as any possible approachs to the village through the hills. He watched the others scouring the village for a moment before turning his eye on the hills on the other side of the village. Having already scouted the western side of the village he decided that whoever had taken the villagers must have come from further north. He ruled out the east; the Karth river and the casm it had cut through the countyside presented an imposing obstacle that would be nearly impossible to cross with any large number of people, much less prisoners. The north though was fair game and Marek knew of Forsworn camps in that area.

Sliding down from the rock, Marek jogged around the village, eyes scanning the ground as he went. When he was abou a third of the way round the perimeter of the village he found what he was looking for. The ground here was very wet, his boots sinking into the moss up to his ankles, and dozens of feet had torn the ground to peices. Marek kenlt and stdied the prints for a moment, immediately noticing that there were far more sets of tracks leaving than there had been heading towards the village. The tracks that were headed towards the village were, for the most part, the same size and shape, uniform, while those leavig were varied in size shape and depth, which meant that people of various sizes or ages had left. After another few seconds, Marek stood and whistled loudly back towards the others, raising his hand in an attempt to get their attention.

Jorunn watched as the mercenary who he had met first walked away from him and the Khajiit, heading off from the group. Jorunn sighed, and turned to walk away from the group, when suddenly he noticed footprints. They were somewhat on and off, as some of the ground was marshy and muddy, and some of it was dry. There were two footprints heading into one of the houses, both of which were the same size, however, heading in the opposite direction of the original tracks, were four footprints, two of the same size he had seen before, but two of much smaller size. There was a possibility that they were child footprints. He began following the footprints, paying little attention to the group of mercenaries behind him. The tracks would disappear and reappear due to the inconsistency of how wet the ground was, but Jorunn was a Ranger, he had spent years developing his skills, and tracking was one of his best. Walking past the elf woman, who he assumed was a mercenary as well, he followed the on and off footprints, to a smaller, side gate, where a whole bunch of tracks, all of varying size, appeared to be exiting the village. He could also make out the same large, uniformed footprints he had seen before, heading both into, and out of the village. Walking a few steps past the hunter who he had ran into earlier, who had just whistled as Jorunn had come around the corner, he noticed something in a track, mashed into the ground by whoever had stepped on it. Bending down, and picking it up out of the dirt, he realized it was a little doll, one that a young child would carry. He stood up fully again, holding the doll in his hand. The footprints died off a few paces farther as the ground wasn't as marshy. There was a possibility, however, that he could still pick up the trail.

Nathariel searched around for any further hints in vain. It looked like whoever had come to the village had been very, very thorough. Almost as if they'd been trained to abduct villagers. Which made no sense. Well, not to her, anyways. As far as she knew, there had been no ransom demands for the return of the missing people. Or any gruesome messages, such as a head in a box, or some other, less-essential body parts. A loud whistle from the outskirts of the village got her attention. She left the village to see one of the human mercenaries standing near the mossy ground, waving his arms. She approached, and once she'd reached him, looked down at the ground. Footsteps. Dozens of them. "I guess this rules out villagers just being swept up by the fog. Or some spell." She said.

Nivani kept her senses alert as the others searched through the village for any that might not have been snatched. She could smell faint traces of blood on the wind, but it was old, and didn't really mean anything. For all she knew, someone could have cut themselves while working. And judging by what the ranger had told her, there hadn't been much of a fight. She watched the young girl, sticking to the Imperials side. She was an odd one. Unlike the others, herself excluded, she wasn't wearing anything that would mark her as any kind of warrior. Perhaps a mage, but Nivani thought the girl was a little young-looking for that. Or at least, too young to be a very experienced mage.

She noticed the mercenary she'd met in the keep was watching her discreetly. There was no real change in his expression, making it nearly impossible for her to guess what he was thinking. But she doubted he'd figured out her true nature. Suspected it, maybe, but from past experience, she knew those that recognized her for what she was typically didn't keep it to themselves. Unless they were the overly confident types that thought they could take on an army and emerge unscathed. Those people didn't concern her. If the mercenary was like that, who, or what ever was responsible for the disappearances would kill him without any help from her.

She glanced at the newcomer. An older Imperial man, with a greatsword, and crossbow, in full plate armour. The symbol of Arkay was etched into the armour, but he was no priest. At least, not like any priest she'd ever met. Some paladin type, then. He might prove a little more dangerous, but right now, he simply looked pained. And slightly annoyed.

The Imperial mercenary returned from one of the houses and made his way to her. "Not much to see in the houses. A little blood, so I'm guessing this was a surprise attack." The mercenary shrugged. "You guys find anything?" He asked, before nodding towards the Imperial."And what's wrong with him?" Nivani had been about to respond when a loud whistle drew her attention. She walked in the direction the noise had come from to see the mercenary from the keep standing near some moss, with the elven woman from before.

"I guess this rules out villagers just being swept up by the fog. Or some spell." The elf was saying. The Khajiit vampiress nodded. "Obviously." The tracks, numerous and varied in size, went north. "So we follow." She looked at the mercenary, then at the ranger, who was holding a childs toy. "The pair of you can track this group, yes?"

Tyresius watched the others carefully wondering which, if any of them, was the cause for his severe headache. True, his 'gift' allowed him to sense evil, but it couldn't single someone out of a crowd. So, unless they confessed, or he could get them secluded away from the others somehow, it was up to his natural skills of observation. The Khajiit woman struck him as a little...odd, lacking both weapons and armour, but he'd also heard stories of the feline race being able to fight quite adequately without any weapons.

There was also the dark haired Imperial man, armed with only a sword, and also lacking in armour. Perhaps he was the culprit, or merely so confident in his abilities with the sword, he believed he didn't need armour. And there were the five others. A ranger, a young looking mage, and three mercenaries, one of them an elf. It could have been anyone of them. Or none of them. Either way, that wasn't as important as finding the missing villagers. If that meant he had to work with this group, then so be it.

From his position, he was close enough to hear the Imperial mercenary and the Khajiit woman talking. He also noticed the mans nod and question. Tyresius scowled, but didn't bother to answer. Instead, he along with the others went to investigate a whistle. One of the other mercenaries was standing by some moss, and had obviously found something. After he got to where the man was, he noticed boot prints, those typically used by soldiers, mercenaries, the like. He also noticed smaller, mixed prints. He was no tracker, but the moss had preserved the prints well. The Khajiit woman spoke up, deciding to follow the tracks. It struck him as odd that she should be in charge, but he didn't comment. Instead, he glanced up noticing the tracks lead north. He'd heard some stories that a few forsworn tribes living to the north. "You think the forsworn are responsible for this?" He inquired of the group in general.

Marcus approached the others, the Imperial in heavy armour was observing the others, a suspicious glint in his eye. The Imperial vampire made a note to keep a close eye on the man. He was clearly some sort of paladin, which made him a little nervous. People like him tended to see things in either black or white, and were a royal pain in the backside. Marcus made an effort to look unconcerned, ad wandered over to see what the others were looking at. It looked like a troop of people had headed to the village, and then the same troop had left, with dozens of different people, doubtless the villagers, in tow. "You think the forsworn are responsible for this?" Marcus shrugged. "It's certainly possible. The forsworn have been known to raid villages before." Privately, he doubted it. As he'd noted earlier, it didn't look like the villagers had put up much resistance.

"No, this wasn't the Forsworn." Marek said, standing and sweeping his arm out to indicate the various footprints, "The Forsworn use rough, hide shoes and bindings to cover their feet. Their tracks are unique because of how bland they are." He turned to point at the village, "Besides, when the Forsworn attack a village or town, they are doing so as an act of war. They are out to kill. Sure, they loot but they only take valuables and things that they can use themselves; Weapons, clothing, food, supplies. They don't take bodies. If this was them, they're taking their whole war to an entirely different level."

Marek glanced back at the group and pulled up his hood. It looked like it would rain later and he didn't want to loose the trail. They were already more than a day behind so they had some ground to cover. Looking around, he decided that he wouldn't have to worry about any of the others falling behind. Except the young woman who looked like a mage, and perhaps the man in the heavy steel armor. Running in gear like that couldn't be easy, despite the mans obvious size. "If we're going to catch up to these people then we'd best get a move on."