Torin made his way to the top of the tower, examining the stone work as he went. It was ancient, that much was certain.Surprisingly, the stairs leading up to the tower top were still very much intact. The rain had slowed enough that Torin removed his hood. Though when he finally did reach the top of the tower, he was gripped with a sense of unease. The center of the tower top, showed clear signs of magical combat. A large scorch mark marred its center . "This must have been where the lightning struck." The only question was; who had cast it?. The ranger paced around the tower, searching for some hint, mindful of the fog that was rolling in. He knew the terrain well, but in the current weather, it would be foolish to travel through the night.
His keen eyes picked out some indentation in the stone. Then he realized that it wasn't indentations at all...it was initials, carved into the stone. An S, and a V. Judging by the relatively little dust in the marks, it could only belong to one person. "Salthar..." that made sense. The signs of a magical duel he'd seen, all lead to Salthar being ambushed by several mages. Where he'd gone, after killing is attackers though, was a mystery. The rain had washed away all hints that a tracker could find. He stood, finishing his examination of the ground.
A feeling of unease crept over him, gradually, as he examined the rest of the tower. He'd decided to head back down to the others when he heard it. The scrape of a blade leaving its' sheathe. Torin didn't bother asking who was there. None of his companions would draw their weapons, not without announcing themselves, anyways. Torin turned, drawing his own sword as he did so. What faced him was a chilling sight. No less than five robed figures faced him, longswords in hand. Though it was dark, the ranger could just make out the black skeletal faces staring at him. For a moment, the ranger and the five robed figures watched each other.
They made the first move. With no movement to indicate any command had been given, two of the wraith-like creatures strode towards him. They struck with surprising speed, and it was all Torin could do to keep his blade between himself and their own. He parried, and parried again, not having the time to get a strike in. Strangely, the remaining three robed figures simply stood and watched, making no attempt to join in. Torin dropped to his knees as the creature on his right delivered a powerful two handed blow that would have taken his head clean off. He heard a crunch of stone, and a thud, as something heavy landed behind him. The statue of an ancient Nord hero had taken the decapitating blow for him. Torin thrusted with his own blade, piercing the things robes with ease. It would have been a mortal blow for any mortal. The robed creature he fought merely stepped back, while its companion stabbed where Torin had been a moment before.
The ranger rolled away, trying desperately to get room to combat these unnatural foes. When he regained his feet, he noticed that the three observers were heading for the stairs. Towards Lythare, and the others. He backed away, trying to think of some weakness that could give him an advantage. None sprang to mind-yet.