"Quaint little place, isn't it?" the party could hear the gruff sarcastic tone coming from a middle aged warrior positioned close to the front of the pack. Many who had served the Lances knew this to be Jorn Segundis, a rather cynical warrior with a knack for speaking his mind, "The kind of place where women tell ghost stories to frighten the children into behaving, or where one's shadow can be seen as an agent of death- a heartless specter looking for it's next victim." He couldn't help but chuckle at his own remark as he lifted a hand, dusting the snow off his coat that concealed the well-worn armor beneath. Having been no stranger to the colder climates, one could see this warrior perpared- wearing a coat made of thick furs with gloves to match. 

"Still... This where Father Gabrazzi sent us," the last remark not seeming to be directed towards anyone in particular... Rather it appeared as if the man was currently speaking to himself, "Let's hope it's just a hoax."

'Vampires? Here of all places?' This thought would remain silently within Jorn's mind as his smirk faded slightly, 'Fair Lady, I hope they're wrong.' Shaking his head to be free of his innate fears, Jorn began to fall back in place with the rest of the party as they steadily approached the city. What he wouldn't give for a stein of ale and a warm fire right about now...

As they arrived at the city gates, Jorn would begin to take stock of the cities defenses- or lack thereof. However the axe wielding mountain of a man before them had caught his interest, 'What's a warrior like that doing in thi-'

All at once, the thought was interrupted by the sounds of someone crying out for help. At the same instant, the group that had come out to greet them scurried back into the walls like mice- all except the man with the axe. With a shake of his head in disapproval, Jorn would begin to scan the snowy scenery for any signs of the pleading screams. Only after one of the party members had rushed off into the distance did he see what was truly going on... A man and a child running from something, though their assailants had not yet come into view. But one needn't guess to hard- what with all the snarling and growling accompanying the terrified shouts. Quickly, Jorn spurred his horse onward, reaching back into his coat as he drew a cross bow from beneath the furs, a bolt already knocked in place. After settling into range, Jorn pulled back on the reins as the beast beneath him came to a halt, a dissatisfied whiny resounding.

"I don't like it either," Jorn mentioned to his beast, acting as if it would understand, "But steady on." Aiming down the sights of his weapon, he'd wait for whatever beast approached to reveal themselves.